Forty  OneThieves 

AneelaXHall 


FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 


FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

A  Tale  of  California 
ANGELO  HALL 


THE  CORNHILL  COMPANY 

BOSTON 


Copyright,  1919 
by 

.  THE  CORNHILL  COMPANY 


DEDICATED 
TO 

J.  H.  K. 

PARTNER  OF  WILL  CUMMINS  AND  A  NEIGHBOR  OF 
ROBERT  PALMER 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  DEAD  MEN  TELL  No  TALES    ...  1 

II.  THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE       ...  4 

III.  THE  GIRL  OR  THE  GOLD?    ....  16 

IV.  A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR       .....  24 
V.  OLD  MAN  PALMER    ......  33 

VI.  Two  OF  A  KIND  .......  40 

VII.  AN  OLD  SWEETHEART    .....  46 

VIII.  "BED-BUG"  BROWN,  DETECTIVE  .     .  55 

IX.  THE  HOME-COMING  OF  A  DEAD  MAN  65 

X.  THE  TRAVELS  OF  JOHN  KEELER    .     .  70 

XI.  THE  SNOWS  OF  THE  SIERRAS    ...  76 

XII.  THE  GOLDEN  SUMMER  COMES  AGAIN  .  83 

XIII.  THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL      ....  90 

XIV.  GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITIES      ....  97 
XV.  THREE  GRAVES  BY  THE  MIDDLE  YUBA  104 

XVI.  WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT       ...  Ill 

XVII.  BROUGHT  TO  JUSTICE     .....  116 

XVIII.  THE  END  OF  J.  C.  P.  COLLINS       .      .  121 

XIX.  THE  HOME-COMING  OF  ANOTHER  DEAD 

MAN      .........  125 

XX.  THE  BRIDAL  VEIL                ....  129 


FORTY- ONE  THIEVES 

CHAPTER  I 
DEAD  MEN  TELL  No  TALES 

In  the  cemetery  on  the  hill  near  the  quiet  village 
of  Reedsville,  Pennsylvania,  you  may  find  this  in 
scription  : 

WILLIAM  F.  CUMMINS 

son  of  Col.  William  &  Martha  Cummins 

who  was  killed  by  highwaymen  near 

NEVADA  CITY,  CALIFORNIA 

September   1,  1879 
aged  45  yrs.  and  8  months 


Be  ye  therefore  also  ready 
For  the  Son  of  Man  cometh 
At  an  hour  when  ye  think  not. 

It  is  a  beautiful  spot,  on  the  road  to  Milroy.  In 
former  times  a  church  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
grounds,  and  the  stern  old  Presbyterian  forefathers 
marched  to  meeting  with  muskets  on  their  shoulders, 
for  the  country  was  infested  with  Indians.  The  swift 
stream  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  now  supplying  power  for 
a  grist-mill,  was  full  of  salmon  that  ran  up  through 
the  Kishacoquillas  from  the  blue  Juniata.  The  sav 
ages  begrudged  the  settlers  these  fish  and  the  game 


2  £GET?Y-ONS  THIEVES 

that  abounded  in  the  rough  mountains;  but  the  set 
tlers  had  come  to  cultivate  the  rich  land  extending 
for  twelve  miles  between  the  mountain  walls. 

The  form  of  many  a  Calif ornian  now  rests  in  that 
cemetery  on  the  hill.  A  few  years  after  the  burial  of 
the  murdered  Cummins,  the  body  of  Henry  Francis 
was  gathered  to  his  fathers,  and,  near  by,  lie  the  bodies 
of  four  of  his  brothers,  —  all  Calif ornians.  The  staid 
Amish  farmers  and  their  subdued  women,  in  out 
landish,  Puritanical  garb,  pass  along  the  road  un 
stirred  by  the  romance  and  glamour  buried  in  those 
graves.  Dead  men  tell  no  tales!  Else  there  were  no 
need  that  pen  of  mine  should  snatch  from  oblivion 
this  tale  of  California. 

More  than  thirty-five  years  have  passed  since  my 
father,  returning  from  the  scene  of  Cummins'  murder, 
related  the  circumstances.  With  Mat  Bailey,  the 
stage-driver,  with  whom  Cummins  had  traveled  that 
fatal  day,  he  had  ridden  over  the  same  road,  had 
passed  the  large  stump  which  had  concealed  the  rob 
bers,  and  had  become  almost  an  eye-witness  of  the 
whole  affair.  My  father's  rehearsal  of  it  fired  my 
youthful  imagination.  So  it  was  like  a  return  to  the 
scenes  of  boyhood  when,  thirty-six  years  after  the 
event,  I,  too,  traveled  the  same  road  that  Cummins 
had  traveled  and  heard  from  the  lips  of  Pete  Sher 
wood,  stage-driver  of  a  later  generation,  the  same  thrill 
ing  story.  The  stump  by  the  roadside  had  so  far  de 
cayed  as  to  have  fallen  over;  but  it  needed  little 
imagination  to  picture  the  whole  tragedy.  In  Sacra 
mento  I  looked  up  the  files  of  the  Daily  Record  Union, 
which  on  Sept.  3,  1879,  two  days  after  the  event, 


DEAD  MEN  TELL  No  TALES  3 

gave  a  brief  account  of  it.  There  was  newspaper 
enterprise  for  you!  An  atrocious  crime  reported  in 
a  neighboring  city  two  days  afterward!  Were  such 
things  too  common  to  excite  interest?  Or  was  it  felt 
that  the  recital  of  them  did  not  tend  to  boom  the 
great  State  of  California? 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE 

On  that  fateful  first  of  September,  1879,  the  stage 
left  Graniteville,  as  usual,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing.  Graniteville,  in  Eureka  Township,  Nevada 
County,  is  the  Eureka  South  of  early  days.  The 
stage  still  makes  the  daily  trip  over  the  mountains; 
but  the  glamour  and  romance  of  the  gold  fields  have 
long  since  departed.  On  the  morning  mentioned 
traffic  was  light,  for  people  did  not  travel  the  twenty- 
eight  miles  through  heat  and  dust  to  Nevada  City 
for  pleasure.  Too  often  it  was  a  case  of  running  the 
gauntlet  from  the  gold  fields  to  the  railroad  terminus 
and  safety. 

This  very  morning,  Charley  Chu,  who  had  thrown 
up  his  job  as  mender  of  ditches,  was  making  a  dash 
for  San  Francisco,  with  five  hundred  dollars  in  dust 
and  a  pistol  at  his  belt.  The  other  passengers  were 
Dr.  John  Mason  and  Mamie  Slocum,  teacher. 
Mamie,  rosy-cheeked,  dark-eyed,  and  pretty,  was 
only  seventeen,  and  ought  to  have  been  at  home 
with  her  mother.  She  was  a  romantic  girl,  however, 
with  several  beaux  in  Eureka  Township;  and  now 
that  the  summer  session  of  school  was  over,  she  was 
going  home  to  Nevada  City,  where  there  were  other 
conquests  to  be  made. 

Dr.  Mason,  a  tall,  lean  Scotchman,  lived  at  North 


THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE  5 

Bloomfield,  only  nine  miles  distant,  whence  he  had 
been  summoned  to  attend  a  case  of  delirium  tremens. 
The  sparkling  water  of  the  Sierras  is  pure  and  cold, 
but  the  gold  of  the  Sierras  buys  stronger  drink.  With 
a  fee  of  two  double  eagles  in  his  pocket,  the  doctor 
could  look  with  charity  upon  the  foibles  of  human 
nature.  He  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  early  morning 
ride  among  the  giant  pines.  In  the  open  places  man- 
zanita  ran  riot,  its  waxy  green  leaves  contrasting 
with  the  dust-laden  asters  and  coarse  grasses  by  the 
roadside.  Across  the  canon  of  the  Middle  Yuba  the 
yellow  earth  of  old  man  Palmer's  diggings  shone  like 
a  trademark  in  the  landscape,  proclaiming  to  the 
least  initiated  the  leading  industry  of  Sierra  and 
Nevada  Counties,  and  marking  for  the  geologist  the 
height  of  the  ancient  river  beds,  twenty-five  hun 
dred  feet  above  the  Middle  Yuba  and  nearly  at  right 
angles  to  it.  Those  ancient  river  beds  were  strewn 
with  gold.  Looking  in  the  other  direction,  one  caught 
glimpses  here  and  there  of  the  back-bone  of  the 
Sierras,  jagged  dolomites  rising  ten  thousand  feet  sky 
ward.  The  morning  air  was  stimulating,  for  at  night 
the  thermometer  drops  to  the  forties  even  in  mid 
summer.  In  a  ditch  by  the  roadside,  and  swift  as  a 
mill-race,  flowed  a  stream  of  clear  cold  water,  brought 
for  miles  from  reservoirs  up  in  the  mountains. 

Even  Charley  Chu,  now  that  he  was  leaving  the 
gold  fields  forever,  regarded  the  water-ditch  with 
affection.  It  brought  life  —  sparkling,  abundant  life 
—  to  these  arid  hill-tops.  Years  ago,  Charley  Chu 
and  numerous  other  Chinamen  had  dug  this  very 
ditch.  What  would  California  have  been  without 


6  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

Chinese  labor?  Industrious  Chinamen  built  the  rail 
road  over  the  Sierras  to  the  East  and  civilization. 
Doctor,  girl  and  Chinaman  were  too  much  occupied 
with  their  own  thoughts  to  take  much  notice  of 
the  stage-driver,  who,  though  he  assumed  an  air  of 
carelessness,  was,  in  reality,  on  the  watch  for  spies  and 
robbers.  For  the  bankers  at  Moore's  Flat,  a  few 
miles  further  on,  were  planning  to  smuggle  several 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  gold  dust  to  Nevada  City 
that  morning.  Mat  Bailey  was  a  brave  fellow,  but  he 
preferred  the  old  days  of  armed  guards  and  hard 
fighting  to  these  dubious  days  when  stage-drivers 
went  unarmed  to  avoid  the  suspicion  of  carrying 
treasure.  Charley  Chu  with  his  pistol  had  the  right 
idea;  and  yet  that  very  pistol  might  queer  things 
to-day. 

Over  this  road  for  twenty-five  years  treasure  to 
the  amount  of  many  millions  of  dollars  had  been  car 
ried  out  of  the  mountains;  and  Mat  could  have  told 
you  many  thrilling  tales  of  highwaymen.  A  short 
distance  beyond  Moore's  Flat  was  Bloody  Run,  a 
rendezvous  of  Mexican  bandits,  back  in  the  fifties. 
Not  many  years  since,  in  the  canon  of  the  South 
Yuba,  Steve  Venard,  with  his  repeating  rifle,  had 
surprised  and  killed  three  men  who  had  robbed  the 
Wells  Fargo  Express.  Some  people  hinted  that  when 
Steve  hunted  up  the  thieves  and  shot  them  in  one, 
two,  three  order,  he  simply  betrayed  his  own  con 
federates.  But  the  express  company  gave  him  a 
handsome  rifle  and  a  generous  share  of  the  gold  re 
covered;  I  prefer  to  believe  that  Steve  was  an  honest 
man. 


THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE  7 

The  stage  arrived  at  Moore's  Flat,  and  Mat  Bailey 
hurriedly  transferred  baggage  and  passengers  to  the 
gaily  painted  and  picturesque  stage-coach  which, 
drawn  by  four  strong  horses,  was  to  continue  the 
journey.  A  pair  of  horses  and  a  mountain  wagon  had 
handled  the  traffic  to  that  point;  but  at  the  present 
time,  when  Moore's  Flat  can  boast  but  eleven  in 
habitants,  the  transfer  to  the  stage-coach  is  made 
at  North  Bloomfield,  several  miles  further  on.  But 
in  1879,  Moore's  Flat,  Eureka  Township,  was  a  thriv 
ing  place,  employing  hundreds  of  miners.  The  great 
sluices,  blasted  deep  into  solid  rock,  then  ran  with  the 
wash  from  high  walls  of  dirt  and  gravel  played  upon 
by  streams  of  water  in  the  process  known  as  hydraulic 
mining.  Jack  Vizzard,  the  watchman,  threaded  those 
sluiceways  armed  with  a  shot-gun. 

At  Moore's  Flat,  six  men  and  two  women  boarded 
the  stage;  and  Mat  Bailey  took  in  charge  a  small 
leather  valise,  smuggled  out  of  the  back  door  of  the 
bank  and  handed  to  him  carelessly.  Mat  received 
it  without  the  flicker  of  an  eyelash.  Nevertheless, 
he  scrutinized  the  eight  new  passengers,  with  appar 
ent  indifference  but  with  unerring  judgment.  All 
except  two,  a  man  and  a  woman,  were  personally 
known  to  him.  And  these  excited  less  suspicion 
than  two  well-known  gamblers,  who  greeted  Mat 
cordially. 

"  It  hurts  business,  Mat,  to  ship  so  much  dust  out 
of  the  country,"  said  one. 

"  Damn  shame,"  said  the  other. 

Mat  paid  no  attention  to  these  remarks,  pretend 
ing  to  be  busy  with  the  baggage.  Quite  accidentally 


8  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

he  lifted  an  old  valise  belonging  to  Will  Cummins, 
who,  dressed  in  a  long  linen  duster,  had  just  boarded 
the  stage.  Cummins  exchanged  glances  with  the 
driver,  and  luckily,  as  Mat  thought,  the  gamblers 
seemed  to  take  no  notice. 

Will  Cummins  had  been  in  the  gold  regions  twenty- 
five  years.  He  had  already  made  and  lost  one  small 
fortune,  and  now  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  with  all  his 
available  worldly  goods,  some  seven  thousand  dol 
lars  in  bullion,  he  was  homeward  bound  to  Reeds- 
ville,  Pennsylvania.  In  the  full  vigor  of  manhood, 
he  was  a  Californian  of  the  highest  type.  He  had  al 
ways  stood  for  law  and  order,  and  was  much  beloved 
by  decent  people.  By  the  other  sort  it  was  well 
understood  that  Will  Cummins  was  a  good  shot,  and 
would  fight  to  a  finish.  He  was  a  man  of  medium 
height,  possessed  of  clear  gray  eyes  and  an  open 
countenance.  The  outlines  of  a  six-shooter  were 
clearly  discernible  under  his  duster. 

In  a  cloud  of  dust,  to  the  clink  of  horse-shoes,  the 
stage  rolled  out  of  Moore's  Flat,  and  was  soon  in  the 
dark  woods  of  Bloody  Run. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Cummins." 

It  was  the  school-teacher  who  spoke;  and  Cum 
mins,  susceptible  to  feminine  charms,  bowed  gra 
ciously. 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Cummins,  it  always  gives  me 
the  shivers  to  pass  through  these  woods.  So  many 
dreadful  things  have  happened  here." 

"  Why,  yes,"  answered  Cummins,  good-naturedly. 
"  It  was  along  here  somewhere,  I  think,  that  the 
darkey,  George  Washington,  was  captured." 


THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE  9 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  said  Mamie. 

"  Oh,  George  was  violently  opposed  to  Chinese 
cheap  labor;  so  he  made  it  his  business  to  rob  China 
men.  But  the  Chinamen  caught  him,  tied  his  hands 
and  feet,  slung  him  on  a  pole  like  so  much  pork  and 
started  him  for  Moore's  Flat,  taking  pains  to  bump 
him  against  every  stump  and  boulder  en  route." 

Charley  Chu  was  grinning  in  pleasant  reverie. 
Mamie  laughed. 

"  But  the  funny  thing  in  this  little  episode,"  con 
tinued  Cummins,  "  was  the  defense  set  up  by  George 
Washington's  lawyer.  There  was  no  doubt  that 
George  was  guilty  of  highway  robbery.  He  had 
been  caught  red-handed,  and  ten  Chinamen  were 
prepared  to  testify  to  the  fact.  But  counsel  argued 
that  by  the  laws  of  the  State  a  white  man  could  not 
be  convicted  on  the  testimony  of  Chinamen;  and 
that,  within  the  meaning  of  the  statute,  in  view  of  re 
cent  amendments  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  George  was  a  white  man.  The  judge  ruled 
that  the  point  was  well  taken;  and,  inasmuch  as  the 
prisoner  had  been  thoroughly  bumped,  he  dismissed 
the  case." 

The  story  is  well  known  in  Nevada  County;  but 
Mamie  laughed  gleefully,  and  turned  her  saucy  eyes 
upon  Charley: 

"  Did  you  help  to  bump  George  Washington?  " 

The  Celestial  was  an  honest  man,  and  shook  his 
head: 

"  Me  only  look  on.    That  cullud  niggah  he  lob  me." 

Will  Cummins  glanced  at  the  Chinaman's  pistol 
and  smiled.  By  this  time  the  stage  had  crossed 


10  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

Bloody  Run  and  was  ascending  the  high  narrow  ridge 
known  as  the  Back-Bone,  beyond  which  lay  the 
village  of  North  Bloomfield.  By  the  roadside  loomed 
a  tall  lone  rock,  placed  as  if  by  a  perverse  Providence 
especially  to  shelter  highwaymen.  For  a  moment 
Cummins  looked  grave,  and  he  reached  for  his  six- 
shooter.  Mat  Bailey  cracked  his  whip  and  dashed 
by  as  if  under  fire. 

From  the  Back-Bone  the  descent  to  North  Bloom- 
field  was  very  steep,  and  was  made  with  grinding  of 
brakes  and  precipitate  speed.  Arrived  at  the  post- 
office,  Dr.  Mason  and  the  two  gamblers  left  the 
coach;  and  a  store-keeper  and  two  surveyors  em 
ployed  by  the  great  Malakoff  Mining  Company  took 
passage  to  Nevada  City.  In  those  halcyon  days  of 
hydraulic  mining,  the  Malakoff,  employing  fifty 
men,  was  known  to  clean  up  $100,000  in  thirty  days. 
It  was  five  hundred  feet  through  dirt  and  gravel  to 
bed-rock,  and  a  veritable  canon  had  been  washed 
out  of  the  earth. 

The  next  stop  was  Lake  City,  —  a  name  illustra 
tive  of  Calif ornian  megalomania;  for  the  lake,  long 
since  gone  dry,  was  merely  an  artificial  reservoir  to 
supply  a  neighboring  mine,  and  the  city  was  a  collec 
tion  of  half  a  dozen  buildings  including  a  store  and  a 
hotel.  Through  the  open  door  of  the  store  a  huge 
safe  was  visible,  for  here  was  one  of  those  deposi 
tories  for  gold  dust  locally  known  as  a  bank.  As  the 
stage  pulled  up,  the  banker  and  a  lady  stepped  out 
to  greet  Will  Cummins,  who  alighted  and  cordially 
shook  hands.  Miss  Slocum,  apparently,  was  some 
what  piqued  because  she  was  not  introduced. 


THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE  11 

"  I  was  hoping  you  would  accompany  us  to  Ne 
vada  City,"  Cummins  said,  addressing  the  lady,  who 
regarded  him  with  affection,  as  Mamie  thought. 

"  You  must  remember,  Will,"  said  the  banker, 
"  that  Mary  hasn't  been  up  to  Moore's  Flat  yet  to 
see  her  old  flames." 

"  Too  late!  "  said  Cummins.  "  The  Keystone  Club 
gave  a  dinner  last  night,  to  wish  me  a  pleasant  jour 
ney.  Eighteen  of  the  twenty-one  were  present.  But 
by  this  time  they  have  scattered  to  the  four  winds." 

"  Never  fear,"  cried  the  lady;  "  I  shall  find  some 
of  our  boys  at  Moore's  Flat.  You  are  the  only  one 
travelling  in  this  direction;  and  the  four  winds  com 
bined  could  not  blow  them  over  the  canon  of  the 
Middle  Yuba." 

"  I  remember  you  think  that  canon  deep  and  ter 
rible,  Mary,"  Will  replied;  "  but  it  is  not  wide,  you 
know.  Remember  our  walk  to  Chipp's  Flat,  the 
last  time  you  were  here?  Nothing  left  there  but  the 
old  cannon.  As  the  boys  say,  everything  else  has 
been  fired." 

"  All  aboard!  "  shouted  Mat,  who  felt  that  he  was 
wasting  time  in  Lake  City.  And  so  Mary  Francis, 
sister  of  Henry  Francis,  bade  adieu  to  Will  Cum 
mins,  little  knowing  that  they  would  never  meet 
again,  either  in  California  or  "  back  home  "  in  Penn 
sylvania.  The  stage  rolled  on,  past  a  grove  of  live 
oaks  hung  with  mistletoe.  Cummins  had  passed  this; 
way  many  times  before.  He  had  even  gathered  mis 
tletoe  here  to  send  to  friends  in  the  East.  But  to 
day  for  the  first  time  it  made  his  heart  yearn  for 
the  love  he  had  missed.  Mary  Francis  was  thirty- 


12  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

five  now.  Twenty-five  years  ago  he  was  twenty  and 
she  was  a  little  bashful  girl.  Her  father's  house  had 
been  the  rendezvous  of  Californians  on  their  occa 
sional  visits  in  the  East.  His  mind  traveled  back  over 
old  scenes;  but  soon  the  canon  of  the  South  Yuba 
burst  upon  his  vision,  thrilling  him  with  its  grandeur 
and  challenging  his  fighting  instincts.  For  after 
winding  down  three  miles  to  the  river,  the  road 
climbed  three  miles  up  the  opposite  side  —  three 
toiling  miles  through  the  ambushes  of  highwaymen. 
There  was  the  scene  of  many  a  hold-up.  And  to-day, 
at  his  age,  he  simply  must  not  be  robbed.  It  would 
break  his  heart.  In  sheer  desperation  he  drew  his 
six-shooter,  examined  it  carefully,  glanced  at  his 
fellow-passengers  and  sat  silent,  alert  and  grim. 

Except  for  the  Chinaman,  the  passengers  were 
feeble  folk.  At  sight  of  the  revolver  the  men  began 
to  fidget;  and,  except  for  Mamie  Slocum,  the  ro 
mantic,  the  women  turned  pale. 

Down  the  coach  plunged  into  the  deep  canon! 
Little  likelihood  of  a  hold-up  when  travelling  at  such 
a  pace.  Down,  down,  safely  down  to  the  river,  run 
ning  clear  and  cold  among  the  rocks.  And  then  the 
slow  ascent.  Mat  Bailey,  perched  on  his  high  seat 
as  lordly  as  Phoebus  Apollo,  felt  cold  shivers  run  down 
his  spine.  From  every  bush,  stump  and  rock  he 
expected  a  masked  man  to  step  forth.  Could  he  de 
pend  upon  Cummins  and  the  Chinaman?  How  slow 
ly  the  horses  labored  up  that  fatal  hill,  haunted  by 
the  ghosts  of  murdered  travelers!  Why  should  he, 
Mat  Bailey,  get  mixed  up  in  other  men's  affairs? 
What  was  there  in  it  for  him?  Of  course,  he  would  try 


THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE  13 

to  play  a  man's  part;  but  he  sincerely  wished  he  were 
at  the  top  of  the  hill. 

At  last  they  were  safely  out  of  the  canon,  and  the 
horses  were  allowed  to  rest  a  few  minutes.  Cummins 
replaced  his  pistol  and  buttoned  up  his  duster;  and 
the  passengers  fell  to  talking.  The  store-keeper 
from  North  Bloomfield  began  to  tell  a  humorous 
story  of  a  lone  highwayman  who,  with  a  double- 
barrelled  shot  gun  waylaid  the  Wells  Fargo  Express 
near  Downieville.  As  he  waited,  with  gun  pointed 
down  the  road,  he  heard  a  wagon  approach  behind 
him.  Coolly  facing  about,  he  levelled  his  gun  at  the 
approaching  travellers,  three  workmen,  and  re 
marked, 

"Gentlemen,  you  have  surprised  me.  Please  de 
liver  your  guns,  and  stand  upon  that  log, "  indicating 
a  prostrate  pine  four  feet  in  diameter.  Needless  to 
say,  the  men  mounted  the  log  and  held  up  their 
hands.  Then  a  load  of  hay  approached,  and  the 
driver  mounted  the  log  with  the  others.  Then  came 
another  wagon,  with  two  men  and  a  ten-year  old 
boy,  George  Williams.  The  robber  ordered  these  to 
stand  upon  the  log,  whereupon  little  George,  in  great 
trepidation,  exclaimed, 

"Good  Mr.  Robber,  don't  shoot,  and  I  will  do 
anything  you  tell  me!" 

About  this  time  one  barrel  of  the  robber's  gun  was 
accidentally  discharged  into  the  log,  and  he  remarked : 

"That  was  damned  careless,"  and  immediately 
reloaded  with  buckshot. 

At  length  the  stage  came  along;  and  promptly 
holding  it  up,  he  tossed  the  driver  a  sack,  directing 


14  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

him  to  put  his  gold  dust  therein.  This  done,  he  sent 
each  separate  vehicle  upon  its  way  as  cool  as  a  mar 
shal  on  dress  parade. 

With  Nevada  City  only  four  miles  away,  the 
canon  of  the  South  Yuba  safely  passed,  and  the  stage 
bowling  along  over  an  easy  road,  it  seemed  a  good 
story. 

"Halt!" 

Two  masked  men  emerged  from  behind  a  stump 
by  the  roadside,  and  Charley  Chu  drew  his  revolver. 
The  passengers  in  a  panic  took  it  away  from  him. 
Mat  Bailey  pulled  up  his  horses. 

While  one  robber  covered  Mat,  the  other  covered 
the  passengers,  who  at  his  command  lined  them 
selves  up  by  the  roadside  with  hands  raised.  Cum 
mins  got  out  on  the  side  of  the  stage  opposite  the 
robber;  and  but  for  the  duster,  buttoned  from  chin 
to  ankles,  he  would  have  had  the  dead  wood  on  that 
robber.  It  was  not  to  be;  and  Cummins,  hands  in 
air,  joined  his  helpless  companions.  The  robber 
then  proceeded  to  rifle  the  baggage.  Charley  Chu 
lost  his  five  hundred  dollars.  Mat  Bailey  gave  up  the 
leather  bag  from  Moore's  Flat. 

"Whose  is  this?"  demanded  the  robber,  laying 
his  hand  on  Cummins'  old  valise.  As  if  hypnotized, 
Mamie  Slocum  answered, 

"That  is  Mr.  Cummins'." 

The  robber  seized  it.  Cummins  exclaimed:  "It  is 
all  I  have  in  the  world,  and  I  will  defend  it  with  my 
life. "  With  that  he  seized  the  robber,  overpowered 
him,  and  went  down  with  him  into  the  dust.  If  only 
there  had  been  one  brave  man  among  those  cowards ! 


THE  GRANITEVILLE  STAGE  15 

"Is  there  no  one  to  help  me?"  shouted  Cummins; 
but  no  one  stirred. 

In  the  gold  regions  of  California  each  man  is  for 
himself.  To  prevent  trouble  his  fellow-passengers 
had  disarmed  the  Chinaman.  The  other  robber, 
seeing  his  partner  overpowered,  passed  quickly  along 
in  front  of  the  line  of  passengers,  placed  his  gun  at 
Cummins'  head,  and  fired.  The  struggle  had  not 
lasted  fifteen  seconds  when  Will  Cummins  lay  mur 
dered  by  the  roadside. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  GIRL  OR  THE  GOLD 

Cummins  was  killed  about  one  o'clock.  Two  hours 
later  two  prospectors,  in  conventional  blue  shirts 
and  trousers,  each  with  a  pack  over  his  back,  were 
seen  in  the  neighborhood  of  Scott's  Flat.  They 
excited  no  suspicion,  as  no  one  at  Scott's  Flat  had 
heard  anything  about  the  hold-up;  and  even  if  news 
had  come,  there  was  nothing  suspicious  in  the  ap 
pearance  of  these  men.  They  had  looked  out  for 
that.  As  a  matter  of  precaution  they  had  provided 
themselves  a  change  of  clothing  and  their  prospectors' 
outfit.  By  common  consent  they  had  very  little  to 
say  to  each  other;  for  they  knew  that  a  careless 
word  might  betray  them.  They  were  in  a  desperate 
hurry  to  reach  Gold  Run  or  Dutch  Flat  to  catch 
the  evening  train  East;  but  from  their  motions  you 
would  not  have  suspected  this.  They  followed  the 
trails  across  country  at  the  usual  swinging  gait  of 
honest  men,  and  they  knew  they  had  six  hours  to 
make  fifteen  miles  over  the  hills.  They  passed  near 
Quaker  Hill,  Red  Dog,  and  You  Bet,  keeping  away 
from  people  as  much  as  they  dared  to,  but  not  ob 
viously  avoiding  anyone. 

At  You  Bet,  Gold  Run  and  Dutch  Flat  they  had 
taken  the  precaution  to  show  themselves  for  several 
days  past;  so  that  no  one  should  notice  their  reap- 


THE  GIRL  OR  THE  GOLD  17 

pearance.  They  were  not  unknown  in  this  region, 
and  there  were  men  at  You  Bet  who  could  have  iden 
tified  them  as  Nevada  City  jail-birds.  There  was 
O'Leary,  for  example,  who  had  been  in  jail  with 
them.  But  in  a  country  filled  with  gamblers  and 
sporting  men,  where  the  chief  end  of  man  is  to  get 
gold  and  to  enjoy  it  forever,  it  is  not  deemed  polite 
to  enquire  too  closely  into  people's  antecedents. 
These  men,  evidently  native-born  Americans,  bore 
the  good  Anglo-Saxon  names  of  Collins  and  Darcy. 
What  more  could  you  ask?  They  perspired  freely, 
and  their  packs  were  evidently  heavy;  but  men  who 
collect  specimens  of  quartz  are  likely  to  carry  heavy 
packs,  and  the  day  was  hot. 

At  You  Bet  the  men  separated,  Darcy  striking 
out  for  Gold  Run  with  all  the  gold,  and  Collins  mak 
ing  for  Dutch  Flat,  which  is  farther  up  the  railroad. 
This  was  to  throw  the  railroad  men  off  the  scent,  for 
news  of  the  murder  had  probably  been  telegraphed 
to  all  railroad  stations  in  the  vicinity. 

Incidentally,  and  unknown  to  his  partner,  this  ar 
rangement  necessitated  a  momentous  decision  in  the 
mind  of  Collins.  As  he  formulated  the  question,  it 
was,  "  The  girl  or  the  gold?  "  Like  many  young 
criminals,  Collins  was  very  much  of  a  ladies'  man. 
He  associated  with  girls  of  the  dance-hall  class,  but 
he  aspired  to  shine  in  the  eyes  of  those  foolish  women 
who  admire  a  gay,  bad  man.  He  would  have  pre 
ferred  to  have  his  share  of  the  plunder  then  and 
there  in  order  to  stay  in  California  to  win  the  hand 
of  Mamie  Slocum.  But  Darcy  was  determined  to 
get  out  of  the  country  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 


18  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

when  they  separated  insisted  upon  taking  all  the 
gold.  It  would  not  do  to  quarrel  with  him,  for  both 
would  be  lost  if  either  was  suspected.  To  share  in 
the  plunder  he  would  have  to  go  East  with  Darcy, 
who  was  to  board  the  same  train  at  Gold  Run  that 
Collins  would  take  at  Dutch  Flat. 

The  girl  or  the  gold?  Because  of  his  infatuation  for 
the  girl  he  had  become  a  highwayman.  He  had  not 
expected  her  to  come  down  from  Graniteville  that 
day.  He  had  not  counted  on  being  nearly  killed  by 
Cummins,  for  it  was  he  whom  Cummins  had  over 
powered.  He  had  not  supposed  that  anyone  would 
be  killed.  Things  had  turned  out  in  a  strange  and 
terrible  way.  To  gain  a  few  thousand  dollars  by 
highway  robbery  was  no  worse  than  to  win  it  by  a 
dozen  other  methods  counted  respectable.  Among 
the  youth  of  Nevada  City  with  whom  he  had  asso 
ciated,  it  was  commonly  believed  that  every  success 
ful  man  in  town  had  done  something  crooked  at 
some  time  in  his  career  —  that  life  was  nothing  but 
a  gamble  anyhow,  and  that  a  little  cheating  might 
sometimes  help  a  fellow. 

When  he  had  learned,  some  months  before,  how 
greatly  Mamie  admired  Will  Cummins,  he  had 
thought  it  good  policy  to  pretend  a  like  admiration. 
While  the  girl  was  in  Graniteville,  away  from  her 
parents,  he  had  seen  her  as  often  as  he  could,  and 
had,  he  was  sure,  acted  the  part  of  a  chivalrous  gentle 
man.  He  had  referred  to  his  jail  record  in  such  a 
magnanimous  way  as  to  win  her  admiration  and  sym 
pathy.  And  he  had  been  magnanimous  toward  Cum 
mins.  He  had  stoutly  maintained  that  even  gentle- 


THE  GIRL  OR  THE  GOLD  19 

men  of  the  road  are  men  of  honor,  incapable  of  petty 
meanness,  merely  taking  by  force  from  some  money- 
shark  what  was  rightfully  theirs  by  virtue  of  their 
being  gentlemen.  Therefore,  he  argued,  no  self- 
respecting  highwayman  would  rob  a  man  like  Will 
Cummins  —  the  merest  hint  that  property  belonged 
to  him  would  be  sufficient  to  protect  it.  He  had 
waxed  eloquent  over  the  matter. 

He  was  now  appalled  to  think  how  his  argument, 
though  insincere,  had  been  refuted.  That  Mamie 
had  spoken  those  fatal  words  was  not  a  ruse  of  his 
but  an  inexplicable  accident.  How  could  he  ever  see 
the  girl  again?  And  yet,  in  this  one  respect  he  was 
innocent,  and  he  wished  she  might  know  it.  Besides, 
he  was  man  enough  to  sympathize  with  her  in  her 
awful  predicament.  With  what  horror  she  must  be 
thinking  of  her  part  in  the  tragedy !  There  was  con 
siderable  generosity  in  his  nature,  and  he  actually 
debated,  criminal  though  he  was,  whether  he  might 
not  better  let  Darcy  keep  the  loot  and  stand  by 
Mamie. 

The  girl  or  the  gold?  Is  it  surprising  that  the  de 
cision  of  J.  C.  P.  Collins  was  similar  to  that  of  other 
Calif ornians?  Similar  to  Cummins',  for  example? 
He  decided  to  make  sure  of  the  gold  first  and  to 
think  about  the  girl  later.  With  six  or  eight  thousand 
dollars  in  the  bank  he  would  be  a  more  valuable 
friend  than  a  poor  man  could  be.  After  this  affair 
had  blown  over,  and  he  recalled  the  fact  that  Doc 
Mason  had  performed  eleven  autopsies  on  murdered 
men  in  the  last  ten  years,  and  not  one  murderer  had 
been  hanged  so  far,  —  he  would  rescue  Mamie  from 


20  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

the  demoralization  of  the  gold  fields  and  take  her  to 
live  in  St.  Louis  or  New  Orleans.  And  now  he  saw 
with  some  satisfaction  that  her  apparent  complicity 
in  the  crime  would  make  life  hard  for  her  in  Nevada 
City  and  impel  her  to  accept  such  a  proposal. 

It  might  have  been  just  as  well  if  the  rattlesnake 
coiled  in  his  path  at  that  moment  had  ended  his 
existence,  but  the  snake  was  indeed  an  honorable 
highwayman,  and  sounded  a  gentlemanly  warning 
in  the  nick  of  time.  Collins  would  have  killed  it  for 
its  pains,  but  killing  had  upset  his  nerves  that  day. 
So  he  left  the  reptile  to  try  its  fangs  on  a  better  man. 
Besides,  he  reflected  that  he  could  not  consistently 
advocate  capital  punishment,  and  he  sincerely  hoped 
that  his  humane  sentiments  would  spread  in  Cali 
fornia.  He  recalled  the  fact  that  there  was  a  strong 
party  among  the  good  people  of  the  State,  repre 
sented  by  several  ladies  who  had  brought  him  bou 
quets  and  jellies  when  he  was  in  jail,  who  were  trying 
to  abolish  capital  punishment.  Judging  from  Doc 
Mason's  experience  in  murder  cases,  the  efforts  of 
these  good  people  were  not  called  for.  And  yet  the 
law  as  it  stood  had  unpleasant  possibilities  for  Col 
lins. 

He  was  really  sorry  about  Cummins.  Of  course, 
Cummins  was  a  fool.  A  man  of  such  character  would 
not  miss  a  few  thousand  dollars  in  the  long  run. 
What  a  fool  he  had  been  to  risk  his  life!  Of  course, 
he,  Collins,  had  risked  his  life,  too.  But  how  different 
were  the  two  cases!  Cummins  had  rich  friends  who 
would  help  him;  Collins  had  no  friends,  barring  a  few 
silly  women.  His  long  suit  was  women.  He  really 


THE  GIRL  OR  THE  GOLD  21 

regretted  Cummins'  death  more  on  Mamie's  account 
than  for  any  other  reason. 

Poor  Mamie !  But  it  must  be  the  gold  and  not  the 
girl  this  trip.  When  he  had  invested  his  capital  and 
made  his  pile,  he  would  play  the  prince  to  his  Cinder 
ella.  They  would  both  be  glad  to  flee  this  country. 
Bah !  the  very  soil  was  red !  Golden  blossoms  sprung 
from  it,  but  the  roots  were  fed  with  blood.  Collins 
was  a  young  fellow,  by  no  means  a  hardened  criminal, 
and  the  excitement  of  the  day  stimulated  intellect 
and  emotion  like  the  drug  of  a  Chinaman. 

He  reached  Dutch  Flat  in  due  season,  and  found 
several  old  cronies  at  the  railroad  station,  where 
people  were  discussing  the  death  of  Cummins.  He 
succeeded  in  showing  the  due  amount  of  interest 
and  no  more,  and  was  diplomatic  enough  not  to 
suggest  that  the  murderers  were  now  on  their  way 
to  San  Francisco.  He  took  the  train  going  East 
according  to  schedule,  and  found  Darcy  playing 
poker  in  the  smoking  car.  Collins  betook  himself  to 
his  pipe  at  the  other  end  of  the  car,  glad  that  night 
had  come,  and  that  he  would  soon  bid  farewell  to 
the  Sierras.  He  felt  the  train  swing  round  the  horse 
shoe  curve  through  Blue  Canon,  and  shortly  after 
ward  he  noticed  that  they  had  entered  the  snow 
sheds,  which  for  forty-five  miles  tunnel  the  snow 
drifts  of  winter,  and  which  in  summer  lie  like  a  huge 
serpent  across  the  summit  of  the  mountains.  Once 
out  of  the  sheds  they  would  speed  down  the  valley 
from  Truckee  into  Nevada. 

The  fugitives  were  well  over  the  line  before  they 
took  any  notice  of  each  other.  Except  for  themselves 


22  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

the  smoker  was  now  empty,  and  they  had  prepared 
to  spend  the  night  there  like  honest  miners  who  were 
down  on  their  luck. 

Collins  remarked  in  an  undertone: 

"Darcy,  we  have  given  them  the  royal  sneak." 

"Know  what  I've  been  thinking?"  replied  Darcy. 
"I've  been  thinking  of  that  wise  remark  of  Ben 
Franklin's  when  he  signed  the  Declaration  of  Inde 
pendence.  " 

"What  was  that?" 

"We've  got  to  hang  together  or  we'll  hang  sepa 
rately.  " 

"That's  no  joke." 

"You  bet  your  soul  it's  no  joke.  And  you'd  better 
shut  up  and  go  to  sleep." 

Silence  for  ten  minutes.    Then  Collins  said, 

"You're  a  tough  nut  to  talk  about  sleep  when 
you've  killed  the  best  man  in  Nevada  County." 

"Where  would  you  be,  J.  C.  P.  Collins,  if  I  hadn't 
killed  him?  You'd  be  in  hell  this  minute. " 

"Thanks,  awfully.  But  I  wish  the  man  wasn't 
dead.' 

"What  did  the  fool  put  up  a  fight  for?  He  could 
see  we  had  him." 

"That 's  what  I  say.  He  was  a  fool  to  risk  his  life. 
He  could  see  there  was  no  help  coming  from  those 
sports. " 

"Well,  Collins,  there  was  one  of  them  that  made 
me  feel  nervous  —  that  Chinaman.  But  the  rest  of 
them  had  him  corralled.  Mat  Bailey  couldn't  do 
nothing  up  there  in  the  air.  Cummins  was  a  fool, 
that's  all." 


THE  GIRL  OR  THE  GOLD  23 

"Must  have  wanted  his  gold  pretty  bad.  And  I 
wish  to  God  he  had  it  right  now. " 

"Here,  take  a  nip  of  brandy.  Your  health's  get 
ting  delicate. " 

"Well,  partner,  no  harm  meant.  But  I  must  say 
I  sympathize  with  Cummins.  He  and  I  have  made 
the  same  choice  today." 

"How's  that?" 

"The  girl  or  the  gold  —  and  we  both  chose  the 
gold.  And  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  don't  think  we  were  both 
right." 


CHAPTER  IV 
A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR 

Six  days  had  elapsed.  It  was  evening,  and  in  the 
large  room  over  Haggerty's  store  at  Moore's  Flat 
the  lamps  had  been  lighted.  Here  ten  members  of 
the  Keystone  Club  had  gathered  to  see  if  something 
might  not  be  done  to  avenge  the  death  of  Cummins. 
Henry  Francis  presided;  but  the  meeting  was  in 
formal.  These  men  had  not  met  to  pass  resolutions, 
but  to  decide  upon  some  line  of  action.  So  far  not  a 
trace  of  the  murderers  had  been  found,  except  for 
their  discarded  clothing.  Sheriff  Carter's  blood 
hounds  had  followed  a  hot  scent  to  Deer  Creek,  sev 
eral  miles  above  Nevada  City,  and  the  posse  who 
followed  the  dogs  were  led  to  a  pool,  in  the  bottom  of 
which,  weighted  with  stones,  was  the  clothing. 
Further  than  this  the  dogs  could  not  go.  They  were 
soon  sneezing  as  the  result  of  inhaling  red  pepper, 
scattered  on  the  rocks.  And  the  robbers  had  prob 
ably  waded  up  or  down  stream  to  insure  complete 
safety. 

Several  suspicious  characters  had  passed  over  the 
railroad  to  Sacramento  and  San  Francisco;  but  this 
was  an  every-day  occurrence,  and  the  police  had 
learned  the  futility  of  arresting  men  who  were  prob 
ably  innocent  miners  pursuing  the  gay  life. 

Nothing  thus  far  had  been  accomplished.    Hence 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  25 

the  meeting  over  Haggerty's  store.  Dr.  Mason  and 
Mat  Bailey  were  present.  The  doctor  came  because 
of  a  sense  of  civic  duty.  His  British  sense  of  justice 
had  been  outraged  beyond  endurance. 

"You  know,  Mr.  Francis,"  he  said,  "I  have  per 
formed  autopsies  upon  eleven  murdered  men  within 
the  last  ten  years;  and  in  no  case  has  one  of  the  mur 
derers  been  brought  to  justice.  It  is  outrageous, 
scandalous.  Decent  men  cannot  afford  to  live  in  a 
community  where  people  are  more  interested  in 
making  money  than  in  enforcing  the  law.  Decent 
men  become  marked  men  —  marked  for  slaughter  as 
Cummins  was.  We  must  do  something,  if  only  to 
protect  ourselves. " 

"You  are  quite  right,  Doctor,"  replied  Francis, 
"and  we  propose  to  investigate  for  ourselves.  Did 
you  notice  any  suspicious  circumstance  when  you 
rode  down  from  Eureka  South  the  other  day?" 

The  doctor  could  not  think  of  anything  important 
unless  it  was  the  remarks  of  the  gamblers  at  Moore's 
Flat  about  shipping  gold  dust  out  of  the  country. 
But  if  they  were  accomplices  they  would  hardly  have 
spoken  so  carelessly.  And  why  did  they  leave  the 
stage  at  North  Bloomfield?  They  were  still  there; 
but  no  one  had  observed  anything  remarkable  in 
their  behavior. 

That  Cummins  was  leaving  California,  probably 
with  gold,  was  a  well-known  fact.  That  he  would 
go  armed,  considering  the  character  of  the  man,  was 
almost  certain.  And  this  was  a  good  reason  why 
bankers  at  Moore's  Flat  or  Lake  City  might  ship 
bullion  that  fatal  day.  Mat  Bailey  nodded  solemn 
assent,  for  he  knew  that  this  was  sound  logic. 


26  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

It  was  now  his  turn  to  offer  suggestions.  A  stage- 
driver  is  always  a  person  of  importance,  especially 
in  California.  For  the  past  six  days  Mat  had  found 
his  public  importance  rather  embarrassing.  Every 
trip  past  the  robbers'  hiding-place  had  brought  an 
avalanche  of  questions  from  curious  passengers. 
Probably  Mat  Bailey  had  been  forced  to  think  of  the 
tragedy  more  constantly  than  had  any  other  person. 
His  opinion  ought  to  be  valuable. 

He  hesitated,  and  seemed  loath  to  speak  his  mind. 

"Out  with  it,  Mat,"  said  Francis.  "This  hearing 
is  among  friends,  not  official.  Tell  us  just  what  you 
think." 

"Well,"  replied  Mat,  "there  is  one  circumstance 
you  gentlemen  ought  to  know.  Up  to  this  time  no 
body  has  mentioned  it;  and  I  hate  to  be  the  first  to 
speak  of  it. " 

Everybody's  interest  was  aroused.  After  a  pause 
Mat  continued : 

"When  the  robber  was  going  over  the  baggage  he 
came  to  Mr.  Cummins'  valise,  and  asked,  *  Whose  is 
this?'  One  of  the  passengers  spoke  up  and  said, 
'That  belongs  to  Mr.  Cummins.'  Then  the  row  be 
gan." 

"Who  is  the  guilty  man?"  cried  Francis. 

Mat  looked  embarrassed:  "It  wasn't  a  man.  It 
was  Miss  Slocum. " 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Everybody  was 
shocked,  and  trying  to  work  out  in  his  own  mind 
some  logical  connection  between  the  school-teacher 
and  the  crime. 

"That's   where   you've   got   us   guessing,    Mat," 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  27 

said  one.  "What  can  a  crowd  of  bachelors  do  if  you 
drag  a  woman  into  the  case?" 

"And  yet,"  said  another,  "what  else  ought  we  to 
expect?  A  woman's  at  the  bottom  of  everything, 
you  know. " 

"Yes,  we  would  none  of  us  be  here  in  this  wicked 
world  except  for  our  mothers, "  remarked  the  doctor 
sarcastically.  "How  has  Miss  Slocum  been  acting 
since  the  tragedy,  Mat?  I  must  confess  I  can't  think 
ill  of  that  girl." 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  replied  Mat,  "  she  has  acted  just 
as  you  would  expect  an  innocent  girl  to  act.  She's 
been  all  broken  up  —  down  sick  a  good  part  of  the 
time.  And  I  don't  believe  there's  a  man,  woman,  or 
child  in  Nevada  City  who  mourns  Will  Cummins 
more  than  she  does.  That's  why  I  hate  to  mention 
her  name.  And  that's  why  I  haven't  said  anything 
up  to  this  time.  But  some  of  those  cowards  who 
looked  on  while  Cummins  was  murdered  have 
begun  to  talk;  so  you  would  have  heard  the  story 
sooner  or  later  anyhow.  Still,  I  hate  to  mention  the 
girl's  name." 

"  You  have  done  right,"  said  Francis.  "  The  girl 
might  have  helped  the  robbers  without  intending  to. 
Frightened  out  of  her  wits,  perhaps.  Somebody 
might  question  her  kindly,  and  see  what's  back  of 
this.  And,  gentlemen,  as  Bailey  spends  a  good  deal 
of  his  time  at  Nevada  City,  it  seems  to  me  he  is  the 
man  to  follow  up  this  clue.  Call  on  the  girl,  Mat,  and 
see  what  you  can  find  out." 

So  out  of  a  sordid  tragedy  there  was  spun  a  thread 
of  romance.  The  school-teacher  and  the  stage- 


28  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

driver  are  about  the  only  characters  who  do  not  re 
quire  the  "gold  cure."  Mat  had  ridden  over  the 
mountains  at  all  seasons  until  he  loved  them.  His 
chief  delights  were  the  companionship  of  his  stout 
horses  and  his  even  more  intimate  companionship 
with  nature.  To  scare  up  a  partridge,  to  scent  the 
pines,  to  listen  to  the  hermit  thrush  were  meat  and 
drink  to  him.  That  there  was  gold  in  these  noble 
mountains  moved  him  very  little,  though  ,this 
fact  provided  him  with  a  livelihood  for  which  he  was 
duly  grateful.  The  school-teacher  was  fortunate  to 
be  brought  up  with  a  sharp  turn  so  early  in  life,  and 
to  find  so  true  a  friend  as  Mat  Bailey. 

But  this  was  only  the  beginning  of  the  council  at 
Moore's  Flat.  It  was  suggested  that  John  Keeler, 
Cummins'  old  partner,  be  employed  to  scour  the 
country  in  search  of  the  assassins.  There  was  no 
more  trustworthy  man  in  Eureka  Township  than 
Keeler.  His  affection  for  Cummins  was  well  known. 
But  his  peculiarities  might  unfit  him  for  the  proposed 
mission.  His  Southern  sense  of  chivalry  unfitted  him 
for  detective  work  that  might  involve  deceit  and 
downright  lying.  He  cared  more  for  his  honor  than 
he  did  for  money,  and  had  been  known  to  refuse 
very  tempting  offers.  Finally,  he  was  opposed  to  vio 
lence.  He  had  refused  to  act  as  a  watchman  for  a 
ditch  company  on  the  ground  that  he  might  be  ex 
pected  to  shoot  some  one.  It  was  a  question  whether 
Keeler  could  be  induced  to  bring  a  man  to  the  gal 
lows. 

Presently,  Dr.  Mason  spoke  up: 

"  You  couldn't  employ  a  better  man  than  Keeler. 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  29 

He  is  the  soul  of  honor,  as  you  all  admit.  For  several 
years  he  was  Cummins'  partner.  As  sheriff  of  Ne 
vada  County  he  would  free  it  of  thugs  and  murderers 
as  he  frees  every  claim  that  he  works  of  rattlesnakes. 
He  is  death  on  rattlers.  Killed  more  than  a  hundred 
of  them  last  summer.  But  the  lawless  element  of 
this  county  take  mighty  good  care  that  Keeler  is  not 
elected  sheriff.  So  much  the  better  for  us,  for  he  is 
free  to  manage  this  business." 

The  doctor's  speech  made  an  impression.  But 
these  Californians  had  not  yet  learned  the  value  of 
honor.  They  seemed  to  think  that  they  could  catch 
the  murderers  if  they  put  up  enough  money.  They 
themselves  were  too  busy  making  money  to  hunt 
down  the  outlaws;  but  they  assumed  that  money 
would  do  it;  and  they  were  willing  to  put  up  thou 
sands  of  dollars.  But  numerous  rewards  for  the  ap 
prehension  of  desperadoes  were  outstanding  at  that 
very  hour;  and  the  desperadoes  were  still  at  large. 
As  a  money-making  proposition,  mining  with  all  its 
uncertainties  was  more  attractive  than  professional 
detective  work.  Then  again,  these  Californians 
could  not  trust  a  man  actuated  by  motives  higher 
than  their  own.  Indeed,  their  chairman,  Henry 
Francis  himself,  for  some  subtle  reason  which  it 
would  have  been  well  for  him  to  analyze,  was  op 
posed  to  employing  honest  John  Keeler.  It  would 
have  been  well  for  Francis,  before  it  was  too  late,  to 
realize  to  what  an  extent  money  standards  were  re 
placing  honor  in  his  own  life.  It  takes  determination, 
loyalty,  devotion,  to  accomplish  a  difficult  task;  and 
such  qualities  cannot  be  bought. 


SO  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

When  Captain  Jack  and  his  Modocks  held  a  coun 
cil  of  war  in  their  lava  beds,  they  accomplished 
things  which  it  was  beyond  the  power  of  these  for 
tune-hunters  to  accomplish.  Captain  Jack  had  no 
gold,  but  the  skill,  loyalty,  and  devotion  of  every 
Indian  of  his  band  were  at  his  command.  And  yet 
Francis  would  have  imagined  himself  the  superior 
of  Captain  Jack. 

As  time  was  passing,  with  little  accomplished, 
Francis  suggested  that  they  might  first  decide  upon 
the  amount  to  be  offered  as  a  reward  for  the  appre 
hension  of  the  murderers.  It  was  voted  to  offer  a 
reward  of  $10,000,  or  $5,000  for  either  of  the  two  men. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,"  said  Francis,  "  I  shall  have 
to  go  over  to  Fillmore  Hill  to-morrow  to  see  Mr. 
Palmer,  who  holds  a  note  against  Will  Cummins. 
You  know  I  am  settling  the  estate.  Keeler  will  be 
over  there,  they  say,  and  I  will  talk  with  him.  But 
on  the  way  over,  I  shall  look  up  a  man  worth  two  of 
John  Keeler  in  a  business  like  this." 

"  Who  is  that?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"  Mr.  William  Brown." 

No  one  seemed  to  know  William  Brown. 

"  He  lives  a  mile  up  the  canon,"  continued 
Francis. 

"  Oh,  you  mean  Bed-bug  Brown,"  said  Mat  Bailey. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Francis,  "  that's  the  name  he 
commonly  goes  by." 

"  I  know  the  man,"  said  the  doctor.  "  Says  he 
came  here  in  '54  and  that  he  has  had  a  picnic  ever 
since.  Though  he  couldn't  have  had  much  of  a  pic 
nic  that  first  winter,  when  he  camped  out  by  the  big 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  31 

log;  and  only  a  few  winters  ago  Palmer  had  to  send 
him  a  quarter  of  beef." 

"  Well,  Brown  is  a  born  detective,"  said  Francis. 
"  He  worked  up  the  Caffey  case  like  a  professional." 

Ben  Caffey's  brother  had  been  hanged  in  Wis 
consin,  in  the  region  of  the  lead  mines,  ten  years 
before.  He  was  innocent  of  the  crime  charged,  and 
Ben  had  vowed  vengeance  on  the  jury.  All  twelve 
of  the  jurors,  though  scattered  over  the  country 
from  New  Orleans  to  the  canon  of  the  Middle  Yuba, 
had  met  violent  deaths.  The  last  man  had  been  a 
neighbor  of  Brown's.  Just  before  his  death  a  stranger 
with  a  limp  left  arm  had  appeared  at  Moore's  Flat; 
and  Brown  had  proved  to  his  own  satisfaction  that 
the  same  man  with  a  limp  arm  had  appeared  at 
New  Orleans  just  before  the  death  of  the  eleventh 
juror  in  that  city.  The  man  with  the  limp  arm  was 
Ben  Caffey.  Such  was  Brown's  story.  People  had 
not  paid  much  attention  to  it,  nor  to  the  murdered 
man's  lonely  grave  by  the  river.  Henry  Francis, 
evidently,  gave  Brown  full  credence,  but  others  pres 
ent  regarded  "Bed-bug  Brown"  as  a  joke.  True,  he 
was  an  intelligent  little  man.  He  had  taught  school 
at  Graniteville  several  winters,  and  had  succeeded 
better  at  this  business  than  at  placer  mining  on  the 
bars  of  the  Middle  Yuba.  But  "Bed-bug  Brown," 
perennial  picnicker,  was  not  a  scientific  sleuth. 

So  when  the  council  of  war  broke  up,  a  feeling  of 
skepticism  prevailed.  Mat  Bailey  saw  more  possi 
bilities  in  his  own  suggestion  than  in  the  $10,000  re 
ward.  Dr.  Mason  saw  more  possibilities,  however 
slight,  in  the  reward  than  in  the  proposed  detective. 


32  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

And  Henry  Francis,  though  he  had  known  Cummins 
from  boyhood,  and  was  even  now  settling  up  his 
estate,  pretended  to  see  more  possibilities  in  a  stran 
ger  than  in  honest  John  Keeler  —  or  himself. 


CHAPTER  V 

OLD  MAN  PALMER 

Robert  Palmer,  tall,  thin,  bent  with  toil,  had  lived 
in  California  thirty  years.  In  May,  1849,  when  the 
snow  drifts  were  still  deep  in  the  canons  of  the  Sierras, 
he  had  crossed  the  mountains,  past  Donner  Lake  and 
the  graves  of  the  Donner  party,  through  Emigrant's 
Gap,  to  the  valley  of  the  Sacramento.  He  was  thirty- 
two  years  old  at  that  time, — no  mere  youth,  seeking 
treasure  at  the  end  of  a  rainbow.  He  was  already 
a  man  of  experience  and  settled  habits,  inured  to 
hardship  and  adverse  fortune.  As  a  youth  he  had 
left  his  native  hills  of  Connecticut,  to  sell  clocks, 
first  in  the  South  and  then  in  the  lumber  camps  of 
Michigan.  There,  the  business  of  Yankee  pedlar 
having  failed,  he  found  himself  stranded.  His 
father  was  a  prosperous  farmer;  but  a  stepmother 
ruled  the  household.  So  young  Palmer  hired  out  to  a 
Michigan  farmer,  for  he  was  one  of  those  hardy 
New  Englanders  who  ask  no  favors  of  fortune.  Im 
agining  a  pretty  frontier  girl  to  be  a  sylvan  goddess, 
with  a  Puritan's  devotion  he  made  love  to  her,  only 
to  be  scorned  for  his  modesty.  But  failure  and  dis 
appointment  served  but  to  strengthen  him,  and  he 
struck  out  for  California. 

He  nearly  perished  on  the  way  there,  while  crossing 
the  deserts  of  Nevada.  In  Wyoming  he  had  fallen 


34  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

into  the  hands  of  that  brave  true  man,  John  Enos, 
then  in  his  prime,  who  had  guided  Bonneville,  Fre 
mont  and  the  Mormon  pilgrims,  and  who,  —  living 
to  the  age  of  a  hundred  and  four  years,  —  saw  the 
wilderness  he  had  loved  and  explored  for  eighty  years 
transformed  to  a  proud  empire.  Enos  had  guided 
Fremont  through  Wyoming.  It  is  rather  too  bad 
that  Palmer  could  not  have  accompanied  Fremont 
and  Kit  Carson  when,  in  February,  1844,  they  crossed 
the  snowy  summit  of  the  Sierras  and  descended 
through  the  deep  drifts  to  Sutter's  Fort  and  safety. 
That  was  four  years  before  the  discovery  of  gold  in 
El  Dorado  County. 

Palmer  was  not  crazy  for  gold.  Arrived  in  the 
Sacramento  Valley,  he  spent  three  or  four  years  at 
farming.  Perhaps  his  Yankee  shrewdness  saw  larger 
profits  in  hay  and  cattle  than  in  washing  gravel. 
But  certainly  his  New  England  integrity  and  sober 
ness  of  character  were  more  in  keeping  with  the  spirit 
of  the  pioneer  than  with  the  spirit  of  the  adventurer. 

While  reckless  young  men  were  swarming  up  the 
valleys  of  South,  Middle  and  North  Yuba,  finding 
fabulous  quantities  of  gold  and  squandering  the 
same  upon  the  Chinese  harlots  of  Downieville,  Robert 
Palmer  was  making  hay  while  the  sun  shone,  which 
was  every  day  in  the  Sacramento  Valley.  But  land 
titles  were  so  uncertain  that  in  1853  he  turned  to 
mining,  —  at  Jefferson,  on  the  South  Yuba.  He  pros 
pered  to  such  an  extent  that  by  1859  he  had  sent 
$8,000  back  to  Connecticut  to  pay  his  debts;  and  he 
had  laid  by  as  much  more.  Frozen  out  of  his  claim 
by  a  water  company  —  for  without  water  a  miner 


OLD  MAN  PALMER  35 

can  do  nothing  —  he  sold  out  to  the  company  in 
1860,  and  went  over  to  the  Middle  Yuba,  where  he 
bought  a  claim  on  Fillmore  Hill,  with  a  water  ditch 
of  its  own. 

Here  Palmer  lived  and  toiled  for  twenty  years, 
washing  the  dirt  and  gravel  of  an  ancient  river-bed 
high  up  on  the  hill-top  between  Wolf  Creek  and  the 
Middle  Yuba.  He  rented  water  from  his  ditch,  some 
times  at  the  rate  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a 
month,  to  other  miners.  From  the  grass  roots  on  the 
hillside  some  lucky  fellows  cleaned  up  $10,000  in  a 
few  days.  For  several  years  John  Keeler  and  Will 
Cummins  rented  water  from  Palmer  and  helped  the 
*'  old  man  "  keep  his  ditch  in  repair. 

The  old  man  lived  alone,  industrious,  and  so  eco 
nomical  as  to  excite  the  mirth  or  the  pity  of  his  rough 
neighbors.  Some  who  heard  that  he  had  loaned 
$60,000  to  a  water  company  at  12  per  cent,  interest, 
regarded  him  contemptuously  as  a  miser.  How  else 
explain  his  shabby  clothes,  his  old  rubber  boots, 
that  were  out  at  the  toes,  his  life  of  toil  and  self- 
denial?  Palmer  never  gambled,  nor  caroused,  nor 
spent  money  on  women.  He  attended  strictly  to 
business,  bringing  to  the  bank  at  Moore's  Flat  from 
time  to  time  gold  dust  of  high  grade,  worth  from  $19 
to  $20  an  ounce.  And  those  who  bought  his  gold 
marked  how  rough  and  torn  were  the  old  man's  fin 
gers,  the  nails  broken  and  blackened  and  forced  away 
from  the  flesh. 

But  Keeler  and  Cummins  had  seen  through  the 
rough  exterior.  They  knew  something  of  his  chari 
ties.  They  had  tasted  his  good  cheer;  for  he  kept  a 


36  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

well-stocked  larder.  They  had  seen  with  amuse 
ment  his  family  of  pet  cats  seated  at  table  with  him, 
and  each  receiving  its  rations  in  due  order,  like  so 
many  children.  Keeler  told  with  glee  about  the  old 
man's  horse  and  mule,  idly  eating  their  heads  off  on 
the  hillside.  They  had  come  to  Palmer  in  payment 
of  a  debt,  and  although  he  had  had  a  fair  offer  for 
the  mule  he  had  refused  to  sell,  on  the  ground  that 
without  the  mule  the  horse  would  be  lonesome. 

Robert  Palmer  knew  what  it  was  to  be  lonesome. 
True,  he  employed  a  hired  man  or  two  occasionally, 
and  when  he  cleaned  up  his  sluices  he  employed  sev 
eral  —  and,  let  it  be  said,  he  paid  good  wages.  There 
were  neighbors,  but  with  most  of  them  he  had  little 
in  common.  The  Woolsey  boys,  at  the  ranch  in  the 
bottom  of  the  canon,  whose  widowed  mother  had 
come  from  St.  Louis  to  marry  old  Sherwood,  had 
grown  up  under  his  kindly  eye.  In  early  boyhood 
their  active  limbs  had  scaled  the  forbidding  ledges  of 
Fillmore  Hill,  and  Robert  Palmer  had  granted  them 
permission  to  hunt  on  his  claim. 

One  night  in  his  cabin  on  the  mountain  top,  when 
the  gold  dust  from  the  last  clean-up  had  not  yet  been 
disposed  of,  he  was  startled  by  a  noise  outside.  He 
blew  out  the  light  and  hid  his  little  bag  of  treasure 
in  the  ashes  of  his  forge.  None  too  soon,  for  there 
was  a  summons  at  the  door,  and  when  he  opened  it 
he  was  confronted  by  three  masked  men.  With 
drawn  pistols  they  demanded  his  money.  He  said  he 
had  none.  It  was  useless  to  resist,  so  he  let  them  bind 
him  hand  and  foot.  Again  they  demanded  his  money. 
Again  he  said  he  had  none.  They  knew  better,  and 


OLD  MAN  PALMER  37 

they  threatened  to  burn  him  alive  in  his  cabin.  But 
Palmer  was  firm.  Then  they  burnt  his  legs  with  a 
hot  poker,  and  threatened  to  shoot  him,  as  they 
might  have  done  with  impunity  in  that  lonesome 
place.  Still  he  was  firm,  so  they  set  him  on  the  hot 
stove  and  tortured  him  in  that  way.  One  of  the 
party,  more  humane  than  the  rest,  protested  against 
more  extreme  measures;  so  that,  after  searching  the 
cabin,  they  gave  up  their  enterprise,  baffled  by  that 
indomitable  man.  Before  leaving  him  one  of  the 
men  asked: 

"  Mr.  Palmer,  do  you  know  us?  " 

Realizing  that  such  knowledge  meant  death,  he 
replied : 

"  No,  I  don't  know  any  of  you." 

And  so  they  left  him.  The  lone  miner  no  doubt 
had  suspicions  concerning  several  of  his  worthless 
neighbors;  but  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  kept  such 
suspicions  to  himself. 

Is  it  any  wonder,  living  in  that  lawless  country, 
that  Robert  Palmer  became  almost  a  recluse?  But 
why  should  he  work  so?  He  was  working  unsel 
fishly  for  others,  as  you  will  see  when  you  read  his 
will,  for  his  twenty-nine  nephews  and  nieces.  As  if 
a  heap  of  double  eagles  would  be  of  any  particular 
use  to  relatives  who  had  well-nigh  forgotten  him! 
No,  they  had  not  forgotten.  For  one  nephew  bor 
rowed  money,  which  was,  however,  repaid,  and 
one  niece  secured  five  hundred  dollars  by  sharp 
practice  worse  than  robbery.  Robert  Palmer  made 
the  mistake  that  many  an  unselfish  man  has  made, 
the  mistake  that  insurance  companies  insist  is  wis- 


38  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

dom:  he  labored  to  provide  others  with  gold,  as 
though  gold  were  a  substitute  for  thrift,  prudence, 
and  self-reliance.  Never  mind,  the  old  fellow  did 
nephews  and  nieces  no  harm,  though  he  disappointed 
several  who  had  depended  upon  him  to  lift  them  from 
poverty;  for  in  the  end  his  hard-earned  money  was 
lost.  His  only  legacy  was  his  example  of  thrift,  un 
selfishness,  and  integrity.  When  men  go  about 
gathering  riches  for  others,  let  them  gather  things  of 
the  spirit.  The  answer  to  this,  perhaps,  is  that  even 
such  riches  cannot  be  transmitted,  that  every  soul 
must  enrich  itself.  That  is  true;  but  a  noble  char 
acter  is  at  least  inspiring,  and  leaves  the  whole 
world  richer. 

In  the  case  of  one  nephew,  Robert  Palmer  found  a 
man  who  loved  him  but  needed  none  of  his  gold. 
This  man  was  an  astronomer,  who,  returning  from  a 
scientific  expedition  to  Behring  Strait  in  1869,  paid 
his  uncle  a  visit.  At  that  time  this  meant  a  trip  of 
forty  miles  into  the  mountains  by  stage  and  on 
horseback  from  the  line  of  the  newly  constructed 
railroad;  for  the  narrow  gauge  from  Coif  ax  to  Nevada 
City  was  not  built  until  1876.  It  was  a  happy  day 
for  Robert  Palmer  when  his  sister's  son,  —  covered 
with  dust,  —  scaled  Fillmore  Hill.  Here  was  a 
meeting  of  two  strong  men,  blue-eyed  Anglo-Sax 
ons,  large  of  frame,  spare,  rugged,  their  fair  skin 
tanned  by  the  blazing  sun  of  California. 

What  a  glorious  visit  they  had!  And  how  they 
revelled  in  a  thousand  recollections  of  their  New 
England  home !  For  nine  days  the  astronomer  shared 
his  uncle's  cabin,  a  new  one,  built  of  sawn  timbers 


OLD  MAN  PALMER  39 

and  boards,  and  quite  comfortable.  Several  days 
they  worked  together  in  the  mine;  and  when  at  last 
the  hour  of  parting  came,  Robert  Palmer  sent  by  his 
nephew  a  present  to  hisgrandnephews  in  Washington, 
the  astronomer's  three  small  sons.  It  was  the  gold 
mined  in  those  nine  days,  some  one  hundred  and 
thirty  dollars  in  value.  Thereafter  the  boys  played 
miners  and  stage-robbers  and  wild  West  generally, 
with  sheet  gold  in  the  guise  of  yellow  envelopes  hid 
den  away  between  the  leaves  of  books  to  represent 
gold  mines. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Two  OF  A  KIND 

The  day  after  the  council  of  war  at  Moore's  Flat, 
John  Keeler  crossed  the  canon  of  the  Middle  Yuba 
to  talk  over  the  death  of  his  old  partner  with  Robert 
Palmer.  As  he  clambered  up  the  steep  side  of  Fill- 
more  Hill  to  the  claim  he  had  worked  with  Cummins 
fifteen  years  before,  all  the  poetry  and  all  the  sadness 
of  life  in  California  came  over  him.  How  vividly  he 
remembered  his  arrival,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  in 
this  land  of  romance  and  adventure !  He  had  reached 
Moore's  Flat  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1860,  when 
bronzed  miners  were  celebrating  in  reckless  fashion. 
The  saloons  were  crowded,  and  card  games  were  in 
progress,  with  gold  coins  stacked  at  the  corners  of  the 
tables.  Out  of  doors  some  red-faced  fellows  were 
running  races  in  the  streets  and  shouting  like  wild 
Indians.  Over  the  door  of  a  restaurant  was  the  sign 
"Eat,  Drink,  and  Be  Merry,"  and  the  youth  pon 
dered  the  words  of  Scripture  following  these  festive 
words,  but  not  quoted  by  the  enterprising  proprietor. 

He  remembered  now,  after  nineteen  years,  the 
strange  aspect  of  nature  in  this  strange  land.  What 
great  mountains!  What  deep  canons!  What  huge 
pines,  with  cones  as  large  as  a  rolling-pin!  The 
strange  manzanita  bushes,  the  chaparral,  the  buck 
eye  with  its  plumes,  the  fragrant  mountain  lily,  like 


Two  OF  A  KIND  41 

an  Easter  lily,  growing  wild.  It  had  seemed  good  to 
him,  a  stranger  in  this  strange  land,  to  see  old  friends 
in  the  squirrels  that  scampered  through  the  woods 
and  crossed  his  path,  to  find  alders,  and  blossoming 
dog-wood,  the  mountain  brake,  and  his  childhood's 
friend  the  mullen  stalk.  Even  to  this  day  when 
he  came  upon  an  orchid,  or  a  wild  rose,  with  its  small 
pink  petals  (smaller  in  this  red  sterile  soil  than  in  his 
native  country),  or  when  a  humming  bird  in  its  shin 
ing  plumage  came  to  sip  honey  from  the  flowers,  or 
when  in  the  still  woods  he  heard  the  liquid  notes  of  a 
hermit  thrush,  the  romance  and  the  reverence  of 
youth  thrilled  him. 

John  Keeler  was  something  of  a  poet,  though  the 
needs  of  his  family  at  Eureka  South  kept  the  bread 
and  butter  question  in  the  foreground.  He  must  see 
"old  man  Palmer"  to  talk  over  the  death  of  Cum 
mins.  He  was  comforted  a  little  when  the  old  man's 
small  black  dog,  Bruce,  came  frisking  down  the  trail 
to  meet  him;  and  when  Sammy,  the  cat,  tail  in 
air  and  purring  a  thousand  welcomes,  rubbed  his 
sleek  fur  against  the  visitor's  boots,  Keeler  fore 
tasted  sweet  solace  for  sorrow. 

"Why,  hello,  Keeler!  Mighty  glad  to  see  you!" 
And  then  in  a  changed  voice,  "You're  fagged  out. 
It's  an  all-fired  steep  trail.  Come  in. " 

"No,  thank  you,"  replied  Keeler,  and  he  seated 
himself  upon  a  chair  in  the  door-yard.  "It's  pleasant 
out  here  under  the  pines.  I  want  to  talk. " 

"I've  been  expecting  you,"  said  Palmer,  "ever 
since  the  news  came  about  Cummins." 

"Well,  if  it  wasn't  for  my  wife  and  boy,  I'd  pull 
up  stakes,  and  get  out  of  California. " 


42  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

"Don't  blame  you.  This  thieving  and  promis 
cuous  killing  are  enough  to  discourage  anybody. 
Too  bad  they  can't  get  the  robbers,  just  this  once,  and 
string  'em  up. " 

"I'm  a  peaceable  man,  as  you  know,  Mr.  Palmer. 
But  I'd  be  willing  to  hang  those  fellows  with  my  own 
hands.  It  wouldn't  help  Will  Cummins  any,  but  it 
would  give  me  solid  satisfaction. " 

"  Well,  Keeler,  I'm  glad  of  one  thing,  Cummins 
was  a  bachelor,  like  me,  and  not  a  married  man." 

"  I've  thought  about  that,  but  it  don't  give  me 
any  comfort.  Will  ought  to  have  married  years  ago. 
His  life  might  have  counted  for  something  then;  but 
now  it  seems  as  if  it  had  been  wasted." 

"  Maybe  you  think  my  life's  been  wasted,  too?  " 

"  No,  Mr.  Palmer,  you  know  I  could  never  think 
that,  after  your  kindness  to  Will  and  me." 

"  Well,  Will  Cummins  was  more  generous  than  I 
ever  was,"  answered  Palmer.  Main  trouble  with  Will 
was  his  temper,  which  was  no  better  than  mine. 
Every  bad  man  in  these  mountains  knew  that  Will 
Cummins  was  ready  to  treat  him  to  his  own  medi 


cine." 


*  Yes,  I  wish  he  hadn't  said  so  much  about 
defending  yourself.  I  wish  he  hadn't  carried  a  pistol 
that  day.  He  wouldn't  have  been  so  ready  to  fight, 
perhaps." 

"  One  thing  certain,"  observed  Palmer,  "  if  he 
was  going  to  carry  a  pistol  at  all,  he  ought  to  have 
had  it  handy,  not  under  his  duster." 

"  Well,  it  was  natural  to  think  the  danger  past 
when  they  had  got  safely  away  from  the  South  Yuba. 


Two  OF  A  KIND  43 

The  robbers  knew  their  man,  and  they  played  a 
shrewd  game." 

"  It's  easy  enough  to  win  when  you  play  with 
loaded  dice.  I  get  boiling  mad  when  I  think  of  these 
low-down,  worthless  rascals  who  don't  stop  at  any 
meanness,  ready  to  commit  murder  for  fifteen  cents. 
They  ought  to  be  treated  worse  than  rattlesnakes. 
But,  as  you  said  just  now,  all  this  don't  help  Will 
Cummins.  But  Will  is  all  right,  John.  You  know 
that  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  I  came  up  here  to  hear  you  say  so.  I've  pretty 
near  lost  faith  in  God  and  man,  I  reckon." 

"  I  lost  faith  in  man  long  ago,"  answered  Palmer, 
smiling  sardonically.  "  If  the  fall  of  Adam  and  the 
curse  of  Cain  are  fables,  —  as  they  are,  of  course,  — 
they  are  just  as  true  as  JSsop's  fables,  for  all  that. 
They  hit  off  human  nature.  But  man  isn't  all.  I've 
never  belonged  to  any  church,  as  I've  often  told 
you.  But  the  longer  I  live  the  more  I  trust  in  Provi 
dence.  Will  Cummins  was  a  good  man,  and  he's 
all  right,  I  tell  you." 

"  I  feel  that  way  myself.  But  I  know  my  feeling 
in  the  matter  don't  alter  the  facts  any.  How  do  you 
figure  it  out?  " 

"  Well,  my  creed's  about  this:  in  spite  of  all  the 
wickedness,  this  is  a  beautiful  old  world.  How  glori 
ously  the  stars  shine  down  every  night  upon  these 
mountains!  Or,  take  Bruce  and  Sammy  here"  — 
and  the  old  man  caressed  his  pets  —  "  why,  they  love 
me  to  distraction.  And  I  love  both  the  scamps,  I 
certainly  do.  But  what  is  that  to  your  affection  for 
your  partner,  John  Keeler?  It  is  a  good  old  world, 


44  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

I  say.  Then  the  Power  that's  in  it  and  back  of  it, 
'  in  whom  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  being,'  is 
a  good  Power.  Well,  then,  God  is  good.  And  that's 
all  we  need  to  know.  If  God  is  good,  we  can  depend 
upon  Him  in  life  and  death.  We  don't  know  what 
death  means.  But  it's  only  a  natural  thing.  It 
can't  matter  much.  I  will  know  more  about  it,  I 
guess,  when  I  am  dead." 

"  I  don't  doubt  you're  right,  Mr.  Palmer.  Once, 
back  in  Maryland,  I  heard  a  minister  say  that  grief 
comes  to  open  our  hearts  to  God.  It  was  at  my 
mother's  funeral.  I  reckon  he  was  right,  too.  But 
my  heart  bleeds  for  Will  Cummins." 

Palmer  looked  at  him  critically  a  moment,  as  if 
weighing  him  in  the  balance.  Then,  as  if  completely 
satisfied  with  his  friend,  he  spoke: 

"  John  Keeler,  I  want  to  talk  business.  I  want  you 
to  hunt  those  rascals  down.  I'll  back  you  for  any 
amount.  I'm  past  sixty,  or  I  might  attend  to  the 
business  myself.  You're  still  a  young  man.  I'll  see 
that  Mrs.  Keeler  and  the  boy  lack  for  nothing  while 
you  are  gone.  And  I  don't  expect  you  to  take  any 
risks.  I  simply  want  you  to  get  the  facts,  then  turn 
them  over  to  the  authorities.  Will  you  do  it?  " 

Keeler  hesitated.  "  There's  very  little  to  go  on. 
The  robbers  have  cleared  out,  and  nobody  knows  who 
they  were  or  where  they  went." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,"  said  Palmer.  "  If  decent 
people  don't  know,  there  are  the  other  kind." 

"  I  reckon  you  and  I  would  be  about  as  helpless 
as  babes  with  '  the  other  kind.'  We've  always  de 
spised  them  and  kept  away  from  them." 


Two  OF  A  KIND  45 

"  But  they're  human,  like  the  rest  of  us.  You  and  I 
understand  human  nature  pretty  well.  We  won't 
breathe  a  word  to  any  one.  You  tell  Mrs.  Keeler 
you're  attending  to  important  business  for  me,  that 
I'm  grub-staking  you,  and  that  there's  something 
in  it  for  you  and  the  family.  If  the  neighbors  get 
wind  of  it,  they'll  think,  perhaps,  you  are  attend 
ing  to  money  matters  for  me.  They  seem  to  be 
mighty  curious  about  my  money." 

"  Well,  I  might  do  it,  if  I  only  knew  how  to  go 
about  it." 

"  Well,  Keeler,  I  think  I  can  give  you  a  start.  And 
while  we  eat  some  dinner  I'll  tell  you  a  story  that  will 
surprise  you." 

These  Calif ornians  were  certainly  two  of  a  kind; 
but  then,  two  of  a  kind,  though  both  be  kings,  is  not  a 
strong  hand. 


CHAPTER  VII 

AN  OLD  SWEETHEART 

When  his  guest  had  been  abundantly  supplied 
with  the  best  the  larder  afforded,  not  forgetting  con 
densed  milk  for  the  coffee,  Palmer  began  his  story. 

"  Since  you  were  here  last,  Keeler,"  he  began, 
"I've  been  to  San  Francisco.  Nothing  remarkable 
about  that,  of  course.  Any  man  might  have  business 
at  the  Hibernia  Bank.  Then  again,  it's  worth  the 
trip  from  Moore's  Flat  just  to  stand  on  the  sea 
shore  an  hour." 

"  Yes,"  said  Keeler  with  enthusiasm,  "  there's  a 
noble  sight." 

"  But,"  continued  Palmer,  "  I'm  too  old  a  man  for 
pleasure  trips.  And  for  that  matter,  I'm  about 
through  with  business,  too.  I  went  to  San  Francisco 
for  a  special  reason." 

Keeler  looked  up  from  his  coffee  inquiringly. 

"  I  went  to  see  an  old  sweetheart." 

Here  Keeler  smiled.  It  seemed  odd  to  think  of  old 
man  Palmer  going  upon  such  a  mission. 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  say  that  the  woman  snubbed 
me  when  I  was  young,  and  later  cared  more  for  my 
money  than  she  did  for  me.  But  I  loved  that  woman 
thirty  years  ago,  and  was  fool  enough  to  think  I 
might  win  her  if  I  could  strike  it  rich  here  in  Cali 
fornia.  I'm  older  now,  and  wiser,  I  hope.  If  a  wo- 


AN  OLD  SWEETHEART  47 

man  won't  marry  a  man  *  for  richer  or  poorer  '  — 
especially  poorer  —  she  oughtn't  to  marry  him  at  all. 
There's  my  nephew  who  was  out  here  ten  years  ago. 
Married  without  a  dollar  and  got  the  best  wife  in  the 
world.  No,  Keeler;  I  may  be  a  fool;  but  I'm  not 
the  kind  of  fool  to  marry  an  old  woman  because  she 
hankers  after  my  money. 

"  I  went  to  San  Francisco  because  I  pity  the  wo 
man,  and  because  I  thought  I  might  help  her  to  be 
come  more  decent  and  self-respecting." 

Here  the  old  man  paused.  Keeler  noticed  that  he 
was  much  embarrassed. 

"  I  would  have  kept  this  affair  to  myself,  Keeler; 
but  we  must  get  the  rascals  who  shot  Cummins,  so 
you  ought  to  know  the  whole  story. 

"  Harriet  Chesney  was  a  pretty  girl  thirty  years 
ago.  Rather  too  proud  of  her  good  looks,  and  a  selfish 
minx.  But  a  young  man  who  has  had  a  good  mother 
thinks  all  women  are  good,  I  guess.  I  was  terribly 
cut  up  when  she  refused  me;  but  I  hate  to  think  now 
what  might  have  happened  if  she  had  accepted  me !  " 

"  Why,  here  ten  years  back,  a  brother  of  mine  in 
Michigan  wrote  to  warn  me  that  Harriet  Chesney 
was  coming  to  California  to  murder  me.  He  said  she 
had  burned  two  houses  for  the  insurance;  had  got 
mixed  up  with  several  men  and  had  robbed  them." 

"  A  regular  she-devil,"  remarked  Keeler. 

"  Well,  sure  enough,  she  turned  up  here  in  Cali 
fornia,  nearly  ten  years  ago.  And  very  likely  she 
would  have  killed  me  if  she  could  have  got  hold  of  my 
property.  And  if  all  the  gold  I  ever  mined  could  have 
saved  her  from  the  sin  and  misery  of  these  past  ten 


48  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

years,  she  would  have  been  welcome  to  it.   But  I 
couldn't  buy  her  a  clear  conscience,  could  I  ? 

"  She  got  as  far  as  Moore's  Flat.  Hung  around 
there  several  days  till  she  saw  me  at  Haggerty's 
store.  My  old  clothes  must  have  disappointed  her. 
It  would  certainly  humiliate  any  woman,  good  or 
bad,  to  associate  with  such  a  scarecrow.  So  she 
cleared  out,  and  went  to  San  Francisco.  I  guess  she 
found  out  she  was  only  a  novice  compared  with  the 
women  down  there.  And  I  guess  in  a  year  or  two 
she  was  like  all  the  rest.  I  tell  you,  it  was  an  awful 
thing  to  think  of.  It's  bad  enough  to  see  a  man  go 
wrong  —  but  a  woman !  —  and  a  woman  you  once 
loved  —  and  still  love,  as  God  still  loves  her!  " 

The  old  man  had  to  pause  here;  and  he  arose 
abruptly,  as  if  to  put  aside  his  dishes;  and  Keeler, 
respecting  his  emotion,  looked  out  of  the  window. 

'  Well,  last  March,  Harriet  wrote  me  a  letter. 
Gave  me  her  address.  Said  she  was  dying,  and  would 
like  to  see  me.  It  was  a  week  or  more  before  the 
letter  reached  me,  for  the  trails  were  badly  drifted 
and  I  had  been  shut  up  here  some  time.  John  Wool- 
sey  brought  the  letter,  and  stayed  until  I  read  it,  to 
see  if  anything  was  wanted.  Said  he  would  look  out 
for  Bruce  and  Sammy,  so  I  got  on  my  snow-shoes 
and  started. 

"  I  reached  San  Francisco  next  day.  I  almost 
wished  the  woman  was  dead,  as  she  had  a  right  to  be 
by  that  time.  If  she  was  dead,  I  wouldn't  have  to 
say  anything  to  hurt  her.  Well,  I  called  at  the  ad 
dress  she  gave,  which  was  in  the  edge  of  Chinatown. 
I  tell  you  it  was  disgusting  to  run  the  gauntlet  there, 


AN  OLD  SWEETHEART  49 

among  those  creatures.  —  I  found  the  woman  had 
been  taken  to  the  city  hospital  several  days  before 
and  whether  she  was  dead  or  alive  the  head  she- 
devil  of  the  place  didn't  seem  to  know  or  care. 

"  I  found  her  at  the  hospital,  sure  enough.  The 
doctor  said  she  was  getting  better,  and  would  proba 
bly  live.  I  didn't  know  whether  to  be  glad  or  sorry; 
and  I  was  tempted  to  go  home  and  write  her  a  letter. 
She  might  not  care  to  see  me  now,  anyway. 

"  But  I  stayed  and  had  a  talk  with  her;  and  I 
am  glad  I  did,  though  I  couldn't  help  remembering 
the  old  rhyme, 

"  When  the  Devil  was  sick,  the  Devil  a  saint  would  be  : 
When  the  Devil  got  well,  the  devil  a  saint  was  he." 

"  Harriet  Chesney  needed  a  friend,  and  she  was 
glad  to  see  me.  She  was  more  than  glad  to  know  that 
I  had  come  as  soon  as  I  could.  Said  she  had  told  her 
self  I  would  not  fail  her  —  that  it  was  the  snow  and 
the  caflon  and  not  some  other  reason  that  kept  me 
away.  Said  she  thought  she  was  going  to  die;  and 
that  she  wanted  me  to  know  she  was  sorry  she  had 
done  wrong.  The  doctor  had  told  her  she  would  get 
well,  so  she  was  going  to  be  an  honest  woman  if  I 
would  help  her.  And  what  do  you  suppose  she 
wanted  me  to  do?  " 

"  Lend  her  some  money,  most  likely,"  said  Keeler. 

"  No,  sir.  She  didn't  want  any  money.  Said  she 
wanted  to  write  to  me  every  Sunday,  and  to  see  me 
whenever  I  came  to  San  Francisco.  Of  course,  I 
agreed,  though  I  told  her  I  don't  go  down  to  the  city 
once  a  year,  as  a  usual  thing.  I  told  her  if  she  thought 
she  needed  me  to  write  and  I  would  try  to  get  down. 
That  seemed  to  satisfy  her. 


50  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

"  Well,  she  has  written  to  me  every  week  since 
then.  By  the  first  of  June  she  was  able  to  work. 
And  since  then  she  has  earned  an  honest  living,  scrub 
bing  floors.  Here  is  her  last  letter." 

Keeler  took  the  proffered  sheet  and  read: 

"San  Francisco,  Sept.  5,  1879. 
Mr.  Robert  Palmer. 
Dear  Sir: 

I  have  just  read  about  the  murder  of  Mr.  Cum 
mins.  The  papers  say  he  lived  at  Moore's  Flat,  and 
worked  a  claim  once  on  Fillmore  Hill.  So  he  must 
have  been  a  friend  of  yours.  It  is  too  bad.  I  might 
help  you  find  the  murderers,  as  all  the  bad  men  of 
Nevada  County  are  known  down  here.  If  you  wil 
come  down  here  or  send  somebody,  I  will  help  you  all 
lean. 

I  am  getting  along  all  right. 

Very  respectfully, 

Harriet  Somers." 

"I  thought  you  said  her  name  was  Chesney, " 
remarked  Keeler,  as  he  returned  the  letter. 

"Oh  well,  she  claims  to  have  been  married  to  two 
or  three  different  men.  Calling  herself  Mrs.  Somers 
seems  to  help  her  keep  her  self-respect.  She  says 
Somers  is  dead.  For  my  part,  I  never  enquired 
whether  there  ever  was  a  sure-enough  Mr.  Somers  or 
not.  But  I  am  sure  she  can  help  us  in  this  business. 
I  wish  you  would  have  a  talk  with  the  woman." 

"There  is  no  harm  in  that.   I'll  do  it.   And  if  I  can 


AN  OLD  SWEETHEART  51 

find  anything  to  go  on,  I'll  undertake  to  follow  up 
those  fellows.  Perhaps  I  can  find  out  something  at 
Nevada  City.  I  reckon  I'll  have  to  let  you  look  out 
for  Mrs.  Keeler  and  the  boy,  as  you  say. " 

"I'm  mighty  glad  to  hear  you  say  that.  And  I'll 
make  out  a  check  right  now.  Smith,  the  livery  man 
at  Eureka  South,  will  cash  it;  and  you  can  take  the 
stage  out  tomorrow  morning." 

"All  right.  I  reckon  we'd  better  not  lose  any 
time. " 

Palmer  had  already  got  out  pen  and  ink.  It  was 
something  of  a  "chore"  for  the  old  man  to  draw  a 
check.  Miners'  paralysis  was  creeping  on,  and  two 
years  later  the  best  he  could  do  was  to  make  his 
mark.  But  today  he  prolonged  his  labors,  making 
out  a  second  check,  to  be  cashed  when  Keeler  reached 
San  Francisco. 

The  business  was  hardly  transacted  when  Henry 
Francis  walked  in. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Francis!"  exclaimed  the  old 
man.  "What  news  from  Moore's  Flat?"  He  ex 
changed  glances  with  Keeler  which  seemed  to  mean 
that  their  business  should  be  regarded  as  strictly 
private,  although  Henry  Francis  was  the  friend  of 
both,  and  had  won  the  confidence  and  affection  of  old 
man  Palmer.  Francis  and  Palmer  held  the  same  po 
litical  faith.  The  former  came  of  a  distinguished 
Democratic  family,  so  that  the  old  man's  protection 
and  loyalty  had  been  bestowed  upon  him  upon  his 
arrival  in  the  gold  fields  twenty  years  before.  Fur 
thermore,  the  old  man  had  proved  the  unfailing 
honesty  of  the  younger  man.  Jew  bankers,  in  blow- 


52  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

ing  dirt  and  impurities  from  gold  dust  offered  for 
sale,  were  not  over-careful  about  blowing  away  gold 
dust,  too,  which  would  be  caught  on  buckskin  placed 
out  of  sight  behind  the  counter.  Palmer's  dust  was 
very  fine,  and  more  than  once  he  had  suffered  through 
such  sharp  practice,  only  to  vow  he  never  would 
suffer  so  again.  In  Francis  he  had  found  a  strictly 
honest  banker,  whose  virtue  he  was  inclined  to  attrib 
ute  to  correct  political  principles,  overlooking  the 
moral  delinquencies  of  other  Democratic  neighbors. 
But  the  old  man,  through  long  years  of  experience 
with  human  nature  in  California,  had  grown  ex 
tremely  cautious  and  secretive.  Probably  no  one 
would  ever  have  been  the  wiser  in  regard  to  his  old 
sweetheart  and  her  sad  history  except  for  the  escape 
of  Cummins'  murderers.  And  now  it  was  not  neces 
sary  that  any  man  other  than  Keeler  should  know. 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Francis.  What  news  from 
Moore's  Flat?" 

Francis  looked  grave.  "I  suppose  Keeler  has  told 
you  all  I  know.  Seven  days  gone  and  nothing  heard 
of  the  robbers.  I  shall  expect  a  telegram  tomorrow 
or  next  day,  telling  of  Will  Cummins'  burial  in  the 
village  cemetery  at  home.  And  his  old  father  and 
mother  are  going  to  be  denied  the  small  comfort  of 
knowing  that  the  murderers  have  been  caught. 

"Keeler,  you  were  Cummins'  partner  once.  Do 
you  have  any  idea  who  the  robbers  were?" 

"I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  don't.  This  country  is  full  of 
bad  men.  I  have  thought  of  the  blacklegs  along 
Kanaka  Creek.  A  robbery  in  Jackass  Ravine  was 
traced  to  that  gang.  But  the  rascals  stand  together, 


AN  OLD  SWEETHEART  53 

and  are  ready  to  defend  a  partner  with  alibis  or 
pistols. " 

If  Keeler  felt  constrained  to  withhold  information 
about  his  intended  visit  to  San  Francisco  in  the  ca 
pacity  of  detective,  Francis  on  his  part  saw  no  reason 
to  state  that  he  had  just  employed  Bed-bug  Brown 
in  a  similar  capacity.  For  in  descending  the  canon 
of  the  Middle  Yuba,  he  had  gone  a  mile  out  of  his 
way  up  the  river  to  the  cabin  of  this  worthy  gentle 
man,  and  finding  him  at  home  had  promptly  engaged 
his  services.  Brown,  like  Keeler,  was  to  take  the 
stage  to  Nevada  City  on  the  morrow,  provided  with 
a  fee  for  current  expenses. 

"Well,"  said  Palmer,  "I  am  glad  for  my  part  that 
the  California  gold  craze  is  coming  to  an  end.  When 
the  farmers  down  in  the  Sacramento  Valley  get  the 
upper  hand,  they  will  stop  hydraulic  mining,  for  it 
keeps  covering  their  good  soil  with  sand  and  clay. 
The  Government  authorities  say  we  are  filling  up 
San  Francisco  Bay,  too;  so  Uncle  Sam  is  going  to 
step  in  and  do  something.  Then  those  rowdies 
along  Kanaka  Creek  and  all  the  other  bad  men  in 
this  country  will  have  to  move  on." 

"And  so  will  the  rest  of  us,"  smiled  Francis.  "A 
man  who  has  made  his  pile  can  afford  to  retire.  But 
what  about  Keeler  here,  and  me?" 
j^"Well,"  persisted  Palmer,  "I  think  Will  Cummins 
was  right  in  wanting  to  leave  the  gold  fields.  Gold 
makes  people  crazy.  Half  our  gamblers  and  thieves 
would  be  decent  men  in  a  decent  community. " 

"Mr.  Palmer  means,"  said  Keeler,  "that  Pat 
Flynn,  who  is  a  good  Democrat,  but  who  doesn't  pay 


54  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

back  the  fifty  dollars  he  borrowed  from  Mr.  Palmer 
last  winter,  would  be  a  better  Democrat  back  in 
Connecticut,  making  wooden  hams  and  nutmegs." 
With  this  he  shook  hands  with  his  friends  and  de 
parted,  for  it  was  evident  Francis  had  some  private 
business  with  the  old  man. 

When  they  were  alone,  Francis  said: 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Palmer,  that  we  Pennsylvanians 
stand  together.  I  have  undertaken  to  settle  up  Cum 
mins'  affairs.  I  find  you  hold  his  note  for  a  thousand 
dollars." 

"  I  do.  Lent  him  the  money  when  he  made  a  fresh 
start  a  few  years  back.  But  I  supposed  I  stood  to 
lose  it  when  the  robbers  took  Cummins'  gold  the 
other  day.  I  certainly  could  afford  to  lose  it." 

"  Well,  you  don't  have  to  lose  it,  Mr.  Palmer. 
Cummins  left  mining  stock  at  the  bank  in  my  care 
that  will  more  than  cover  the  debt.  The  fact  is,  I 
borrowed  the  value  of  the  stock  from  him.  Strictly 
speaking,  I  got  him  to  put  a  couple  of  thousand  into 
a  paying  proposition;  and  he  left  everything  in  my 
hands.  So  I  am  going  to  get  you  to  cancel  Cummins' 
note  and  to  take  mine  instead." 

"  Francis,  you  are  an  honest  man.  The  money  is 
no  great  object  with  me.  But  because  I  have  found 
out  that  honesty  is  a  thing  that  ought  to  be  encour 
aged,  especially  among  friends,  I  will  take  your  note 
and  cancel  the  other." 

So  this  business  was  settled.  Robert  Palmer,  gov 
erned  by  kindly  feeling  rather  than  hard  sense,  over 
looked  his  friend's  weakness  for  speculation,  rather 
counting  it  as  honesty. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
"  BED-BUG  BROWN,"  DETECTIVE 

When  Mat  Bailey  drove  the  stage  out  of  Granite- 
ville  the  next  morning,  John  Keeler  and  "  Bed-bug 
Brown  "  were  the  only  passengers.  Brown  had  spent 
the  previous  evening  learning  all  that  he  could  about 
Mamie  Slocum  and  her  young  admirers.  He  had 
actually  learned  that  a  young  man  from  Nevada  City 
who  signed  himself  J.  C.  P.  Collins  had  paid  her  at 
tentions.  He  had  also  discovered  that  the  young 
school-teacher  had  more  than  once  expressed  much 
admiration  for  Mat  Bailey.  In  view  of  what  Henry 
Francis  had  told  him  of  Mat's  reflections  on  the 
school-teacher,  Brown  resolved,  quietly  and  of  his 
own  accord,  to  keep  an  eye  upon  Mat  as  well  as 
upon  Mamie. 

The  little  man  was  unusually  quiet,  revolving 
various  theories  in  his  head,  and  contemplating  the 
magnificence  of  the  ten  thousand  dollar  reward. 
But  the  presence  of  John  Keeler,  Cummins'  old  part 
ner,  suggested  the  wisdom  of  gleaning  information 
from  this  source.  So,  in  order  to  impress  Keeler  with 
his  seniority  and  larger  experience,  he  began: 

"  You  don't  remember,  I  suppose,  Mr.  Keeler, 
when  camels  were  introduced  here  in  the  gold  fields?  " 

"  No,  that  was  before  my  time." 

"  It  was  back  in  fifty-six,  before  the  water-ditch 


56  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

companies  had  fairly  got  started.  It  was  as  dry  as 
Sahara  on  these  mountains  then,  and  it  is  no  wonder 
somebody  thought  of  camels." 

'  Well,  when  you  think  of  our  ostrich  farms, 
camels  don't  seem  out  of  place  in  California.  Did 
you  ever  think,  Mr.  Brown,  what  extremes  of  climate 
we  have  right  here  in  Nevada  County?  Along  about 
the  tenth  of  December  they  are  cutting  ice  up  in  the 
Sierras  while  they  are  picking  oranges  in  the  western 
end  of  the  county." 

*  That  is  pretty  good  for  the  banner  gold  county  of 
the  State.  Most  of  us  forget  everything  but  the 
gold,"  replied  Brown,  smiling  inwardly,  to  think  how 
easily  this  remark  would  lead  up  to  the  desired  topic. 
"  I'm  getting  sick  of  the  gold,"  replied  honest 
John  Keeler.  "  All  that  was  handy  to  get  at  has  been 
carried  away.  No  chance  left  for  a  poor  man.  It 
takes  a  big  company  with  capital  to  run  the  business 
of  hydraulic  mining  as  they  do  at  Moore's  Flat  and 
North  Bloomfield.  Quartz  mining  is  still  worse.  By 
the  time  you've  sunk  a  shaft  and  put  up  a  stamping- 
mill,  you've  mortgaged  your  quartz  for  more  than 
it  is  worth,  perhaps.  It  takes  capital  to  run  a  quartz 


mine." 


'  Yes,"  assented  Brown,  "  this  country  has  seen 
its  best  days." 

"  That's  what  old  man  Palmer  says,"  remarked 
Keeler,  looking  across  the  canon  at  Palmer's  Dig 
gings. 

"  You  and  Cummins  did  pretty  well  over  there 
fifteen  years  ago,"  and  the  little  detective's  eyes 
twinkled  at  his  own  cleverness. 


"BED-BUG"  BROWN,  DETECTIVE  57 

"  We  made  a  living;  that's  about  all." 

"  But  Cummins  was  a  wealthy  man  some  years 
back." 

"  Well,  his  partner  never  was,"  laughed  Keeler. 
"  If  I  could  scrape  together  the  dust,  I'd  leave  these 
mountains  as  he  tried  to." 

"  Who  do  you  suppose  the  robbers  were?  " 

"  If  I  could  make  a  good  guess,  I'd  go  after  that  ten 
thousand  dollar  reward,"  replied  Keeler. 

"  There's  an  awful  tough  gang  over  in  Jim  Crow 
Canon,"  said  Brown,  throwing  out  another  feeler. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  of  a  place  in  these  gold  fields 
where  you  won't  find  a  tough  gang?  I  was  in  Forest 
City  the  other  day.  I  took  the  trail  over  the  moun 
tains  through  Alleghany.  Both  of  those  places  are 
live  towns  with  cemeteries, — well  settled  places,  you 
know.  But  a  tougher  lot  of  citizens  you  never  saw. 
Gambling,  drinking,  and  fighting,  and  Sunday  the 
worst  day  of  the  seven." 

'  What  impresses  me  most  about  Alleghany,"  said 
Brown,  "  is  the  vast  number  of  tin  cans  on  the  city 
dump.  It  makes  a  man  hungry  for  the  grub  his 
mother  used  to  cook." 

*  You're  right  there,"  said  Keeler,  and  lapsed  into 
silence. 

They  were  at  Moore's  Flat  presently,  where  they 
changed  to  the  four-horse  stage-coach;  and  the  little 
detective's  attention  was  absorbed  by  the  actions  of 
Mat  Bailey,  who  seemed  strangely  quiet.  A  guilty 
conscience,  perhaps? 

Several  people  were  going  down  to  Nevada  City. 
So  Keeler  and  Brown  did  not  resume  their  conversa- 


58  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

tion,  but  journeyed  on,  each  absorbed  in  his  own 
thoughts.  To  Keeler  the  trip  was  a  sad  one.  In  the 
dark  woods  along  Bloody  Run,  and  as  they  passed 
the  tall  rock  by  the  roadside  beyond,  he  thought  of 
robbers  and  his  murdered  partner.  At  the  store  in 
North  Bloomfield  he  could  hardly  resist  the  impulse 
to  insult  the  cowardly  storekeeper  who  had  stood  by 
and  allowed  Cummins  to  be  shot.  As  they  dove 
down  into  the  canon  of  the  South  Yuba,  he  groaned 
to  think  of  the  murders  for  gold  committed  therein. 
Could  not  a  protecting  Providence  have  saved  his 
friend?  Was  it  the  decree  of  fate  that  one  who  had 
manfully  defended  the  right  for  twenty-five  years  in 
that  lawless  country  should  be  cut  off  just  when  he 
was  quitting  it  forever?  Perhaps,  he  thought,  this 
very  hour  his  partner  was  being  laid  at  rest  in  his 
"  ain  countree."  -  And  his  soul?  Well,  he  believed 
as  Palmer  did,  that  all  is  well  with  the  soul  of  a  brave 
man.  Was  he,  Keeler,  on  a  fool's  errand  to  San 
Francisco?  Well,  he  had  determined  on  his  own  ac 
count  to  do  a  little  investigating  in  Nevada  City  that 
very  day.  So  had  Mat  Bailey.  Hence  his  unusual 
taciturnity.  So  had  "  Bed-bug  Brown,"  and  he  kept 
the  secret  to  himself. 

Arrived  at  Nevada  City,  with  its  steep  streets, 
compactly  built  up  at  the  centre  of  the  town,  church 
and  county  courthouse  on  the  hillside,  the  traveler 
finds  himself  fairly  out  of  the  mountains,  the  luring 
fatal  mountains,  whose  very  soil  has  now  the  color 
of  gold  and  now  the  color  of  blood.  Mat  Bailey's 
first  concern  was  the  care  of  his  horses.  Keeler  went 
to  look  up  his  friend  Sheriff  Carter.  And  "  Bed-bug 


"BED-BUG"  BROWN,  DETECTIVE  59 

Brown  "  partook  of  a  frugal  dinner  at  the  moderate 
cost  of  two  bits.  He  sat  where  he  could  observe  the 
movements  of  Mat,  and  lingered  in  the  neighborhood 
until  the  stage-driver  had  disposed  of  his  own  dinner 
and  set  out  to  call  upon  Mamie  Slocum. 

This  young  lady  now  spent  most  of  her  time  at 
home.  She  had  hardly  recovered  from  the  shock  of 
the  tragedy;  and  her  imagination  had  conjured  up 
a  visit  from  the  sheriff  for  her  part  therein.  Instead 
it  was  only  that  splendid  Mat  Bailey,  flicking  the 
dust  from  his  boots  with  his  handkerchief,  and  mus 
tering  up  courage  to  knock  at  the  door!  How  glad 
she  was  to  see  him!  And  Mat  thought  that  she 
looked  very  sad  and  pretty!  She  conducted  him  to 
the  parlor,  and  proffered  the  seat  of  honor,  a  hair 
cloth  rocking-chair. 

"  Let  me  call  Mother.  She  will  be  so  glad  to  hear 
about  her  friends  in  Granite ville." 

"  I'd  rather  see  you  alone,  if  you  don't  mind." 
And  Mat  blushed  through  his  tan,  but  assured  him 
self  that  duty  prompted,  if  pleasure  did  consent.  It 
was  the  best  arrangement  all  round,  as  "  Bed-bug 
Brown  "  himself  thought,  —  for  this  worthy  gentle 
man  was  eaves-dropping  in  the  cellar,  with  only  a 
floor  of  thin  boards  between  himself  and  these  inter 
esting  young  people. 

Under  other  circumstances  Miss  Slocum  would 
have  been  fascinated  at  the  idea  of  a  tete-a-tete  with 
this  interesting,  stalwart  man  of  the  mountains. 
But  something  in  his  manner,  and  her  own  over 
wrought  nerves,  told  her  there  was  trouble  ahead. 
Should  she  run  away,  should  she  use  a  woman's  wiles 


60  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

in  self-defense,  or  should  she  confide  in  this  handsome 
man?  Distracted  by  these  conflicting  thoughts,  she 
presented  a  charming  picture  of  alarmed  innocence, 
as  Bailey  thought;  and  his  heart  yearned  to  offer 
protection. 

"  Miss  Slocum,  I  don't  know  how  to  put  it,  and  I 
don't  know  what  mean  things  you  are  going  to  think 
of  me  "  - 

And  now  Mamie  began  to  sympathize  with  the 
big  stage-driver,  who  seemed  as  much  embarrassed 
as  she. 

"  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Francis  asked  me  to  see  you." 

"  Mr.  Francis  is  a  good  friend  of  mine.  He  secured 
the  school  at  Granite ville  for  me." 

Bailey,  grateful  for  this  help,  contined: 

"  He  thought  I  might  inquire  about  a  matter  "  — 

"  Heavens!  "  thought  Mamie,  "  does  Mr.  Francis 
know  about  my  trouble?  Mat  Bailey  must  have  told 
him!  "  If  her  intuition  guided  her  truly  in  this  mat 
ter,  it  no  less  truly  recognized  a  friend  in  Mat. 

"  The  fact  is  "  —  he  began,  and  then  he  hesitated. 
"  Damn  it!  "  he  thought,  "  how  could  he  say  things 
that  would  hurt  this  lovely  creature?  " 

"  Mr.  Bailey,  I  think  I  know  what  you  mean.  You 
want  to  know  why  I  told  that  robber  about  Mr. 
Cummins's  valise.  It  has  nearly  worried  me  to 
death;  and  I  don't  wonder  you  all  demand  an  ex 
planation." 

"  Don't  put  it  that  way,  I  beg  of  you,  Miss  Slo 
cum!  "  exclaimed  Mat,  greatly  relieved  that  she  had 
come  to  his  rescue,  but  no  less  greatly  concerned  that 
he  should  appear  in  the  hateful  character  of  accuser 


"BED-BUG"  BROWN,  DETECTIVE  61 

and  informer.  "  We  don't  demand  anything.  We 
know  you  didn't  have  anything  to  do  with  those  rob 
bers.  Mr.  Cummins  was  a  friend  of  yours;  and  you 
wouldn't  do  nothing  to  injure  an  enemy!  " 

Mat  could  use  negatives  properly  when  not  ex 
cited. 

The  conversation  was  becoming  less  and  less  inter 
esting  to  the  little  man  in  the  cellar.  But  it  was  not 
easy  to  beat  a  retreat. 

Mamie  began  to  weep  softly,  but  more  from  joy 
than  otherwise.  After  the  strain  of  the  past  week 
these  honest  words  of  Mat  were  balm  to  her. 

"I  —  I  will  tell  you  everything,  Mr.  Bailey.  Oh, 
how  I  have  wanted  to  talk  to  some  friend  about  it! 
But  it  was  so  dreadful !  I  couldn't  breathe  a  word  of  it 
even  to  Mother. " 

Mat  was  all  tenderness  now;  and  the  man  under 
the  floor  began  to  prick  up  his  ears. 

"I  was  talking  with  a  young  man  only  a  week  be 
fore  that  dreadful  day,  and  he  said  highwaymen  are 
too  generous  to  steal  money  from  people  like  Mr. 
Cummins.  And  that  the  best  thing  anyone  could  do 
when  a  stage  is  robbed  would  be  to  tell  the  robbers 
about  the  property  of  passengers  like  him.  I  didn't 
believe  it  at  first,  and  now  I  know  how  frightfully 
foolish  I  was.  But  the  young  man,  who  had  been  in 
jail  once  himself,  was  so  positive,  that  I  really  be 
lieved  a  criminal  has  a  sense  of  honor.  And  when 
the  robber  asked  whose  valise  that  was,  I  was  so 
frightened  the  words  came  right  out  before  I  realized 
what  I  had  done. " 

"Every  word  you  say  is  God's  truth,  Miss  Slocum, 


62  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

and  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  bothering  you  this 
way."  It  did  occur  to  Mat  that  he  might  inquire 
who  that  young  jailbird  might  be.  And  "Bed-bug 
Brown"  was  hoping  that  his  name  would  be  men 
tioned.  But  Mat  reflected  that  this  was  none  of  his 
business;  and  that  it  did  not  matter  anyhow.  If 
Miss  Slocum  did  not  care  to  mention  the  man's  name 
he  would  not  ask  for  it.  She  had  behaved  nobly,  and 
he  admired  her  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 

"Really,  Mr.  Bailey,  I  am  glad  you  gave  me  this 
chance  to  explain.  You  don't  know  what  I  have 
suffered.  And  then  to  think  that  I  deserved  to  suffer 
it,  and  more,  too,  for  causing  the  death  of  my  own 
friend!"  And  here  the  tears  came  again,  honest 
tears,  as  Mat  knew  full  well.  He  rather  envied  Cum 
mins  that  so  beautiful  a  creature  should  grieve  for 
him. 

"Now  look  here,  Mamie,  it  is  all  right  to  be  sorry 
that  Mr.  Cummins  got  killed.  Every  honest  man 
and  woman  in  Nevada  County  is  sorry.  But  you 
didn't  cause  his  death,  any  more  than  I  did.  I  never 
felt  meaner  in  my  life  than  I  did  that  day,  holding 
those  horses  and  looking  down  into  the  barrel  of  that 
robber's  gun.  He  had  me,  until  he  started  for 
Cummins.  And  it  was  all  over  so  quick,  I  hardly 
knew  what  happened.  But  I  can't  quite  forgive 
myself  for  not  jumping  down  after  that  robber  as 
soon  as  ever  he  uncovered  me.  It  would  probably 
have  been  too  late;  and  the  horses  would  have  run 
away,  most  likely;  but  still  I  wish  I  had  jumped. 
But  because  I  didn't  jump  I'm  not  going  to  hold  my 
self  responsible  for  Cummins'  death.  The  robbers 


"BED-BUG"  BROWN,  DETECTIVE  63 

must  hang  for  it,  and  not  you  and  me.  As  for  what 
you  said,  I  don't  believe  it  made  any  difference  at 
all.  They  were  bound  to  get  all  the  gold  on  the  stage 
that  day;  and  they  knew  Cummins  had  some." 

"That's  just  it,  Mr.  Bailey,  and  that's  what  makes 
it  so  hard  for  me. " 

Mat  saw  he  had  been  swept  off  his  feet  by  his  own 
eloquence,  and  so  he  tried  again. 

"Well,  they  would  have  got  it  anyhow.  They 
might  have  wasted  a  minute  or  two  more  hunting 
for  it,  but  they  would  have  found  it,  and  Cummins 
would  have  fought  for  it  just  the  same. " 

"Yes,  that  is  what  I've  thought,"  said  Mamie. 
"Oh,  why  did  he  risk  his  life  so?" 

"I'll  tell  you,  Mamie,"  said  Mat,  "everybody  in 
this  country  is  crazy  about  gold  —  miners,  gamblers, 
bankers,  robbers,  —  everybody.  They're  like  hun 
gry  wolves,  ready  to  tear  one  another  to  pieces.  Only 
the  wolves  have  more  sense.  Gold  is  of  no  earthly 
use  to  anyone.  I'm  sick  and  tired  of  the  whole 
business. "  And  Mat  rose,  hat  in  hand,  to  go. 

"I  hope  you'll  call  again,  Mr.  Bailey,"  said  the 
the  girl  shyly.  Here  was  a  friend  in  need!  A  great 
bashful,  manly  fellow,  so  kind  and  sympathetic! 

"I'll  be  more  than  pleased  to,"  replied  Mat,  de 
termined  to  prove  his  philosophy  that  there  are 
things  far  more  precious  than  gold. 

Fascinated  with  the  idea,  he  loitered  in  the  neigh 
borhood  longer  than  he  would  otherwise  have  done; 
and,  glancing  back  at  the  dear  girl's  house,  he  was 
astonished  to  see  "Bed-bug  Brown"  emerge  from  the 
cellar.  Brown  saw  him  at  about  the  same  time. 


64  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

There  was  no  escape  for  either,  so  they  drifted  to 
gether  good-naturedly.  The  little  man  extended  his 
hand: 

"Congratulations!   When  is  the  wedding  to  be?" 

Bailey  simply  smiled,  and  said  : 

"Bed-bug  Brown,  detective!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  HOME-COMING  OF  A  DEAD  MAN 

Meanwhile  the  body  of  the  murdered  man  - 
noble  countenance  peaceful  now  after  twenty-five 
years  of  adventure  —  had  been  traveling  eastward 
to  its  final  resting  place.  The  body  of  William  F. 
Cummins  came  home  in  state  —  home  at  last,  where 
the  familiar  caw  of  crow  and  tinkle  of  cow-bell 
might  almost  conjure  the  dead  back  to  life  again. 
Three  years  before,  at  the  time  of  the  great  Cen 
tennial,  when,  in  the  full  vigor  of  manhood,  Will 
Cummins  had  visited  his  native  town,  no  sounds 
had  so  stirred  old  memories  of  fields  and  mountains 
as  those  homely  sounds  of  crow  and  cow-bell. 

Then  neighbors  had  flocked  about  the  bold  Cali- 
fornian,  eager  to  press  his  hand  and  to  look  into  his 
fearless  eyes.  Now,  robbed  and  murdered,  he  came 
home  again,  life's  journey  ended.  The  quiet  village 
was  appalled,  and  shaken  with  anger.  Friends  and 
neighbors  flocked  to  the  funeral  —  indignant  youths, 
solemn  old  men  and  women.  True,  the  younger 
generation  had  hardly  known  of  the  Californian's 
existence.  To  them  he  seemed  to  have  come  out 
of  the  Sierras  like  a  Rip  Van  Winkle,  who  slept 
soundly  on,  asking  no  questions.  But  to  the  old  men 
he  had  died  a  youth,  full  of  promise.  They  remem 
bered  well  the  eager  buoyancy  with  which  he  and  his 


66  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

comrades  had  set  out  for  the  gold  fields.  Middle- 
aged  men  and  women  remembered  his  school  days 
in  Reedsville,  when  he  was  one  of  them,  when  they 
were  all  healthy,  merry  boys  and  girls  together. 

The  funeral  over,  and  the  Californian  safely  laid 
in  his  native  soil  on  the  hillside,  men  gathered  in 
groups  on  the  corners  of  the  village  street,  or  stepped 
into  the  bank  to  look  at  the  six-shooter  which  had 
failed  their  friend  in  his  hour  of  need.  The  local 
minister,  gazing  upon  the  dead  man's  revolver,  was 
heard  to  remark: 

"They  that  take  the  sword  shall  perish  with  the 
sword. " 

But  the  bystanders  would  not  endure  the  doctrine. 
Their  Anglo-Saxon  blood  recoiled.  And  a  former 
Californian,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  Cummins, 
stepped  forward  and  said: 

"Mr.  Lamb,  Will  Cummins  was  not  afraid  to 
perish  with  the  sword.  And,  if  he  could  have  drawn 
that  revolver,  there  would  have  been  two  dead  rob 
bers.  This  doctrine  of  non-resistance  is  wrong,  dead 
wrong.  We  proved  that  in  California,  just  as  you 
people  proved  it  here  in  the  Civil  War.  Will  Cum 
mins  was  not  afraid  to  defend  his  rights. " 

"But,"  replied  the  minister,  who  in  spite  of  his 
name  seemed  eager  for  the  combat,  "the  Civil  War 
was  a  national  crime.  Think  of  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  young  men,  North  and  South,  who 
perished. " 

"Yes,  Mr.  Lamb,  the  war  was  a  crime.  And  Jeff 
Davis  and  the  other  criminals  ought  to  have  been 
hanged,  just  as  those  stage-robbers  ought  to  be. " 


HOME-COMING   OF   A   DEAD    MAN  67 

"Don't  you  see,  my  friend, "  replied  the  minister, 
"that  violence  breeds  violence?" 

"Then,"  rather  scornfully,  "you  think  Will 
Cummins  did  wrong  to  defend  his  property?" 

"He  would  have  been  alive  today  if  he  hadn't." 

"But  that's  not  the  point.  Will  Cummins  died 
for  a  principle.  He  believed  in  self-defense,  and  was 
not  afraid  to  risk  his  life. " 

"Of  course,"  said  the  minister,  "I  admit  that  he 
was  a  brave  man.  But  Christ  said,  'if  any  man  take 
away  thy  coat,  let  him  have  thy  cloak  also'  —  'turn 
the  other  cheek'  —  'resist  not  evil'  —  'they  that 
take  the  sword  shall  perish  with  the  sword. ' ' 

"Well,"  said  the  Californian,  "I  don't  dispute  the 
fact  that  people  who  carry  weapons  are  likely  to 
get  killed.  What  I  say  is,  I  admire  a  man  who  is  not 
afraid  of  getting  killed  when  he  knows  he's  right.  It 
may  be  just  as  honorable  to  perish  with  the  sword 
as  to  be  crucified." 

This  statement,  savoring  of  the  heresy  that  was 
introduced  into  American  thought  both  by  soldiers 
returning  from  the  Civil  War  and  by  men  returning 
from  the  lawless  life  of  the  West,  rather  shocked  the 
minister,  who  was  a  good  and  sincere  man.  But  he 
only  said : 

"Surely,  you  are  a  Christian?" 

"  Well, "  replied  the  Californian,  "  I  don't  know.  If 
Jesus  Christ  said  self-defense  is  wrong,  then  He  was 
mistaken. " 

Hplere  the  argument  ended.  But  the  theme  is  a 
fruitful  one;  and  every  thoughtful  man  and  woman 
in  Reedsville  was  bound  to  consider  it.  Dead  men 


68  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

tell  no  tales  and  make  no  arguments.  Will  Cummins 
slept  peacefully  on.  But  the  facts  of  the  case  were 
too  plain  to  be  ignored;  and  the  Calif ornian's  doubt 
of  Christ's  infallibility  was  widely  discussed. 

It  was  indeed  a  great  issue,  involving  the  funda 
mental  principles  of  Christianity.  A  brave  man,  who 
is  not  a  scoffer,  attacks  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance, 
and  lays  down  his  life  for  the  faith  that  is  in  him. 
A  martyr,  then.  Martyrdom  in  itself  cannot  estab 
lish  a  principle;  but  we  respect  martyrdom.  Turn 
the  argument  around:  the  martyrdom  of  Christ  did 
not  establish  the  correctness  of  His  teaching. 

But  this  leads  to  a  further  question,  namely,  the 
nature  of  Christ  —  was  Christ  human  or  divine? 
We  may  honestly  say  He  was  both;  for  if  ever  man 
was  inspired  He  was.  But  He  might  have  made  mis 
takes,  as  other  inspired  teachers  have  done.  And 
what  did  He  really  teach?  Not  one  word  of  Scripture 
was  written  by  His  hand.  The  spirit  of  Christ  —  this 
is  the  important  thing.  The  letter  killeth,  the  spirit 
giveth  life.  Did  He  not  caution  us  to  look  not  to 
Himself  but  to  God?  "  Why  callest  thou  me  good? 
One  there  is  who  is  good,  even  God  "  .  .  .  "  Not 
those  who  say,  *  Lord,  Lord/  but  those  who  do  the 
will  of  My  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

Self-defense  is  a  duty  which  civilized  man  owes  to 
civilization.  Will  you  tell  me  that  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  Armenians  who,  making  no  resistance, 
have  perished  like  sheep  at  the  hands  of  the  Turks, 
were  better  men  than  the  four  thousand  who  fled  to 
the  mountains  and  fought  off  their  persecutors  till 
help  arrived?  Read  of  the  heroic  defense,  when  for 


HOME-COMING   OF   A   DEAD   MAN  69 

fifty-three  days  the  men  of  that  gallant  band,  with 
a  few  rifles,  saved  their  women  and  children  from 
worse  than  death.  I  say  these  men  performed  a 
duty  to  God  and  man  —  to  the  Turk  himself,  into 
whose  black  heart  they  shot  more  virtue  and  honesty 
than  ever  were  implanted  by  the  hundreds  of  thou 
sands  who  died  like  sheep. 

Civilized  man  must  maintain  himself,  else  the  world 
will  relapse  into  barbarism.  To  perish  with  the  sword 
in  defense  of  home  and  friends  may  be  a  sacred  duty. 
If  I  have  any  quarrel  with  the  Calif ornians  it  is  not 
with  their  courage  and  daring.  These  were  exem 
plary.  And  if  it  is  right  to  defend  one's  life,  it  is  right 
to  defend  one's  property,  by  means  of  which  life  is 
supported. 

But  the  dead  men  sleep  soundly  there  on  the  hill, 
unmindful  of  praise  or  blame,  and  old  man  Palmer, 
himself  in  a  pauper's  grave  by  the  Middle  Yuba, 
robbed  in  his  turn,  and  by  a  trusted  friend,  tells  no 
tales,  for  he  sleeps  serenely. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  TRAVELS  OF  JOHN  KEELER 

John  Keeler  had  found  his  friend  the  sheriff  at  the 
Citizens'  Bank,  putting  up  money  on  a  bet  that 
Cummins'  murderers  would  not  be  caught  within 
a  year.  Sheriff  Carter  was  dealing  in  futures,  as  it 
were.  Nothing  would  have  pleased  him  better  than 
to  lay  hands  on  those  highwaymen;  but,  —  thor 
oughly  discouraged  at  the  outlook,  —  like  a  true 
sportsman  he  enjoyed  the  humor  of  betting  against 
himself  in  the  vague  hope  that  such  action  might 
lead  to  something.  He  was  more  than  pleased  to  see 
Keeler,  whose  mysterious  air  clearly  indicated  that 
something  was  up.  They  walked  immediately  to  the 
courthouse,  and  were  soon  closeted  together. 

"  Now  look  here,  Keeler,  if  you're  going  to  play 
detective,  you  don't  want  to  hang  out  a  sign,  *  John 
Keeler,  Detective.'  There's  blood  in  your  eye.  Any 
crook  could  spot  you  a  block  away." 

Keeler  laughed,  and  looked  rather  sheepish. 
'  Well,"  he  said,  "  there's  no  harm  done,  I  reckon. 
Those  fellows  are  probably  a  thousand  miles  from 
here  by  this  time." 

'  What  makes  you  think  so? "  asked  Carter. 
:<  They  may  be  right  here  in  Nevada  City.  Some  of 
those  fellows  can  throw  a  perfect  bluff  on  a  pair  of 
two-spots." 


THE  TRAVELS  OF  JOHN  KEELER  71 

"  Well,  Carter,  I  thank  you  for  your  suggestion. 
After  this,  I'll  be  careful.  That  is,  I'll  appear  to  be 
careless.  I  haven't  any  inkling  as  to  where  those 
thugs  are,  and  I've  come  to  you  to  get  some  points." 

"  I  don't  blame  you  a  bit,  Keeler,  for  wanting  to 
look  into  this  affair.  Cummins  was  your  partner 
once;  and  a  better  man  never  lived  in  Nevada 
County.  I  hope  to  God  I  can  string  up  the  men  who 
killed  him.  Just  step  in  here." 

In  an  ante-room  Carter  had  set  up  two  straw  men 
dressed  in  the  discarded  clothes  of  the  highwaymen. 

"  Of  course,  this  ain't  going  to  help  much,"  ex 
plained  Carter,  deprecatingly.  "But  it  does  give 
you  a  fair  idea  of  the  height  of  those  fellows.  Mat 
Bailey  was  in  here  the  other  day  to  help  me  with 
these  dummies.  He  seems  to  have  a  pretty  good 
idea  of  what  the  men  looked  like." 

As  his  mission  to  San  Francisco  was  confidential, 
and  inasmuch  as  Palmer's  Mrs.  Somers  was  an  un 
known  quantity,  Keeler  refrained  from  mentioning 
her.  He  proceeded  to  San  Francisco  that  day; 
looked  up  Mrs.  Somers,  who  gave  him  the  names 
and  descriptions  of  a  dozen  bad  men  of  Nevada 
County;  and  the  next  day  he  returned  to  hunt  up 
some  of  these  same  bad  men.  One  of  them  was 
O'Leary  of  You  Bet,  whom  he  found  without  trouble. 
But  he  got  very  little  encouragement  from  O'Leary; 
and  he  very  soon  discovered  how  hard  it  is  for  an 
honest  man  to  get  any  sort  of  satisfaction  from 
thieves  and  liars. 

In  the  absence  of  any  definite  information  he  re 
solved  to  turn  eastward,  across  the  Sierras.  He  wa& 


72  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

on  the  right  track,  as  we  know.  As  far  as  Omaha  it 
was  not  so  very  difficult  to  make  a  fairly  thorough 
search  for  the  criminals.  However,  this  took  time, 
and  although  he  happened  to  pick  up  information 
here  and  there  about  a  couple  of  rather  odd-looking 
Californians  traveling  eastward  with  gold,  he  often 
felt  that  he  was  on  a  fool's  errand.  He  fell  in  with 
Californians  everywhere.  If  the  building  of  the 
transcontinental  railroad  had  served  no  other  pur 
pose,  it  had  sent  a  steady  stream  of  people  away  from 
the  gold  fields  —  a  circumstance  that  made  his  mis 
sion  seem  all  the  more  hopeless.  Among  so  many 
how  could  he  distinguish  the  criminals?  True,  he 
could  distinguish  an  ex-miner  among  a  thousand. 
And  whenever  such  a  man  extended  his  right  hand 
and  said,  "  Put  it  there,  partner!  "  Keeler  could  not 
refuse  the  proffered  hand-clasp. 

At  Louisville  he  encountered  a  man  whom  he  was 
sure  he  had  seen  in  Nevada  City.  The  man  evidently 
recognized  him  also,  and  for  an  instant  Keeler 
thought  he  saw  a  wild  gleam  in  the  man's  eye.  Then 
it  was,  "  Put  it  there,  partner!  "  and  Keeler  placed 
his  clean  right  hand  into  the  grimy  palm  indicated. 

'  The  drinks  are  on  me,  this  morning,"  said  the 
man,  marching  him  off  to  the  nearest  bar.  And 
Keeler  was  so  much  in  the  humor  of  the  thing  that 
he  was  soon  telling  the  story  of  the  Frenchman  who 
took  lessons  in  English  from  a  Kentuckian: 

'  What  do  you  say  in  Anglais  when  one  offer  you 
a  drink,  and  you  accep'  le  invite?  " 

"  Don't  care  if  I  do,"  replied  the  instructor. 

"  Don  car  fido,"  repeated  Frenchy.  "  And  what 
eef  you  do  not  accep'  le  invite?  " 


THE  TRAVELS  OF  JOHN  KEELER  73 

The  Kentuckian  looked  grave,  slowly  shook  his 
head,  and  finally  answered  in  despair: 

"  You've  got  me  there,  Frenchy!  " 

The  Calif ornian  laughed  heartily  —  rather  too 
heartily,  Keeler  thought;  and  then  inquired: 

"  Going  East  or  West?  " 

"  Westward  for  me,"  replied  Keeler;  "  and  you?  " 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I've  played  my  last  game  of 
poker  in  Nevada  City.  The  East  for  me.  With  a 
little  dust  for  capital,  this  country  seems  right  good. 
Why,  out  there  in  the  Sierras,  you  know  as  well  as  I 
do,  the  soil's  too  poor  to  feed  lizards.  Not  much  like 
the  blue  grass  country  of  Kaintuck." 

"  Well,"  said  Keeler,  "  if  I  had  made  my  pile, 
Maryland  would  be  good  enough  for  me.  As  it  is, 
California  is  all  right,  barring  those  same  pesky 
lizards." 

"  The  boys  set  too  stiff  a  pace  out  there,  though," 
replied  the  ex-miner.  "  Why,  many  a  Saturday 
night  I've  seen  fellows  drop  into  town  with  a  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  in  dust,  and  then  borrow  the  money 
to  take  the  stage  out  Monday  morning." 

"  I  don't  go  in  for  sporting  myself,"  said  Keeler, 
"so  I  guess  my  character  won't  be  ruined.  The 
churches  have  got  started,  and  they  are  giving  the 
saloons  a  good  deal  of  trouble." 

"  By  thunder!  that  reminds  me,"  quoth  the  Cali- 
f ornian,  "  this  here  is  a  Christian  country,  and  I'm 
going  to  join  the  church,  first  thing  I  do." 

"  And  spin  California  yarns  to  a  Sunday-School 
class,"  suggested  Keeler.  "  Bet  your  class  will  be  a 
large  one." 


74  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

"I'll  do  it,  by  thunder!  The  very  thing!  And 
I'll  shoot  any  lad  as  gets  impertinent." 

Keeler  was  clearly  out  of  his  element,  and  thought 
it  time  to  terminate  the  brief  acquaintance. 

"  John  Keeler  is  my  name;  and  I  can  swear  I've 
seen  you  in  Nevada  City.  But  you  have  the  best 
of  me." 

"  Why,"  replied  the  Calif ornian,  as  cool  as  you 
please,  "  my  name's  Darcy." 

It  was  the  man  who  had  killed  Will  Cummins! 
But  John  Keeler  was  none  the  wiser,  as  Darcy 
quickly  saw.  He  and  Collins  had  reached  Louisville 
undetected.  Had  there  assumed  the  character  of 
honest  miners,  shipped  their  bullion  by  express,  a 
part  to  New  Orleans  and  a  part  to  Philadelphia,  and 
were  on  the  point  of  dissolving  partnership. 

Darcy  soon  afterward  assumed  the  name  of  Thorn, 
set  up  in  the  lumber  business  at  Union  City,  Indiana, 
where  it  is  but  a  few  steps  across  the  border  into 
Ohio,  —  and  became  a  prosperous  and  respected 
citizen.  He  actually  associated  himself  with  the 
leading  church  of  the  town  and  was  looked  upon  by 
the  young  men  as  a  Calif  ornian  who  had  succeeded. 

Honest  John  Keeler,  who  was  well  acquainted 
with  the  type,  as  he  thought,  could  only  remark,  as 
his  train  sped  westward,  "  There  is  a  sensible  miner! 
One  who  has  safely  transferred  his  money  from  sa 
loons  and  gambling  dens  and  robbers  to  the  famous 
blue  grass  country.  Good  luck  to  him!  " 

He  had  well-nigh  forgotten  the  incident  when 
Darcy  was  arrested  three  years  later. 

A  whole  year  had  passed  before  Keeler  returned 


THE  TRAVELS  OF  JOHN  KEELER  75 

home,  discouraged.  In  the  meantime,  as  we  shall  see, 
the  snows  of  the  Sierras  had  not  chilled  the  budding 
affections  of  Mat  Bailey;  but  the  hot  sun  of  another 
California  summer  had  stricken  down  old  man 
Palmer.  Keeler  mistrusted  that  something  was 
wrong,  as  he  had  not  heard  from  his  old  friend  for 
several  months.  Fortunately,  his  wife  and  child 
were  well  and  happy,  but  they  had  impatiently 
waited  for  his  return.  From  them  he  had  heard 
every  week  or  two. 

At  length  he  was  safely  back  across  the  Sierras. 
The  canon  of  the  American  River  had  never  seemed 
more. terrible  as  the  train  hovered  over  the  brink  of 
it.  And  now  they  were  at  Colfax,  the  junction  of  the 
narrow  gauge  railroad,  whence,  at  nine  cents  a  mile, 
you  travel  northward  to  Nevada  City.  The  iron 
bars  on  the  high,  narrow  windows  of  the  station,  the 
low  whistle  of  the  little  engine,  like  the  lonesome  cry 
of  a  wolf,  as  it  took  the  high  trestle  over  Bear  River, 
the  very  bars  of  dirt  in  the  river  bed  far  below,  pro 
claimed  to  John  Keeler  that  he  had  returned  to  the 
land  of  robbers  and  gold  mining. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  SNOWS  OF  THE  SIERRAS 

After  the  heat  and  turmoil  of  a  day  when  the 
children  have  been  especially  vexing,  what  mother 
does  not  smile  in  forgiveness  upon  the  peaceful 
faces  of  her  offspring,  whose  characters  in  sleep  ap 
pear  as  spotless  as  the  sheets  which  cover  them?  So 
smiled  the  sun  upon  the  grown-up  children  of  the 
Sierras  asleep  under  the  winter  snow.  After  the  heat 
and  turmoil  of  the  summer,  the  mad  search  for  gold 
was  over.  Save  when  there  was  a  heavy  snowstorm, 
the  Graniteville  stage  traveled  over  the  mountains, 
as  usual;  but  no  highwayman  molested  it.  It  would 
have  been  a  practical  impossibility  for  a  robber  to 
have  made  off  with  booty.  The  snow  was  light  and 
feathery,  and  the  drifts  were  often  twenty-five  feet 
deep.  The  web-footed  snow-shoes  of  New  England 
could  not  be  used  with  advantage  in  such  snow,  so 
recourse  was  had  to  skis.  But  it  was  difficult  to 
manage  these  upon  the  steep  trails  of  the  canons, 
so  that  people  generally  were  content  to  hibernate 
like  grizzlies.  Many  a  miner,  glad  to  indulge  his 
liking  of  conviviality,  would  take  up  his  residence  in 
some  mountain  village  for  the  winter,  spending  with 
a  liberal  hand  the  precious  yellow  dust  that  he  had 
worked  so  hard  to  get.  Many,  forced  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door,  found  work  with  lumbermen  and 
ditch  companies. 


THE  SNOWS  OF  THE  SIERRAS  7T 

In  my  opinion,  Mat  Bailey  and  Dr.  Mason  had  a 
decided  advantage  over  both  miners  and  villagers. 
Like  the  man-o- war's  man  of  song  they  enjoyed 
steady  occupations  summer  and  winter,  and  spent 
much  of  their  time  in  the  open.  The  cold  was  never 
extreme,  the  thermometer  very  rarely  dropping  be 
low  zero  Fahrenheit.  The  dust  of  summer  was  buried 
deep  under  the  gleaming  snow,  and  the  air  was  crisp 
and  exhilarating.  Often  the  doctor  was  one  of  Mat's 
passengers.  Often  he  would  leave  the  stage  where 
some  trail  wound  down  into  a  canon,  and  putting  on 
his  skis  glide  away  among  the  great  pines,  which, 
covered  with  snow  and  ornamented  with  shining 
icicles,  were  scattered  over  the  mountain  slopes  like 
great  wigwams  of  white  canvas.  A  doctor  anywhere 
is  a  welcome  visitor  and  a  friend  in  need;  in  the 
wilderness,  in  the  depth  of  winter  he  ranks  but  little 
lower  than  the  angels.  Often,  coming  to  a  lonely 
cabin,  fairly  buried  in  snow-drifts,  he  would  climb  in 
through  the  gable  window  of  the  loft;  and  no  doubt 
his  descent  to  the  patient  lying  below  suggested  the 
arrival  of  a  heavenly  visitor. 

One  glorious  winter  day  Mamie  Slocum  through 
Mat's  persuasions  accompanied  him  from  Nevada 
City  to  Granite ville.  He  wanted  her  to  see  the  mag 
nificence  of  the  Sierras  in  winter.  Mamie  needed 
little  coaxing.  Indeed,  her  admiration  for  Mat  was 
making  her  unmindful  of  very  eligible  suitors.  Be 
sides,  she  enjoyed  life  in  the  open  almost  as  much  as 
he  did.  But  I  suspect  on  that  beautiful  winter 
morning  both  enjoyed  each  other's  society  even  more 
than  the  scenery.  As  far  as  North  Bloomfield,  she 


78  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

was  the  only  passenger,  so  well  had  Mat  and  the 
weather  bureau  contrived  matters.  He  explained 
that  he  was  really  in  need  of  her  assistance,  for  in  the 
open  places  where  the  snow  had  drifted  across  the 
road,  it  was  often  necessary  to  attack  the  drifts  with 
a  snow-shovel.  He  would  then  pass  the  reins  to 
Mamie,  who,  demurely  perched  aloft,  rosy-cheeked 
and  most  bewitching,  was  a  picture  for  an  artist. 

No  wonder  Mat  should  have  grown  confidential 
and  talked  about  his  personal  history  —  which  was 
usually  bad  form  in  California,  where  present  fortune 
counted  for  everything  and  family  history  was  re 
garded  as  ancient  history.  He  told  her  how  in  boy 
hood  he  came  to  California  from  Virginia  with  his 
parents.  That  was  back  in  the  fifties,  when  respect 
able  women  were  so  rare  in  the  gold  fields  that  their 
arrival  was  hailed  by  the  rough  miners  with  a  sort 
of  religious  fervor.  One  of  Mat's  earliest  recollec 
tions  was  a  scene  with  emigrant  wagon  and  camp- 
fire  in  the  background,  and  in  the  foreground  his 
mother,  clasping  him  by  the  hand  and  greeting  a 
score  of  bearded  men,  who,  with  hats  off,  were  paying 
her  homage. 

He  could  remember,  too,  how  they  had  come  over 
the  mountains  through  Emigrant  Gap,  passing  the 
graves  of  the  Donner  party.  The  tragedy  of  the 
snow-bound  emigrants  had  made  a  deep  impression 
upon  his  imagination.  He  spoke  of  it  to  Mamie,  and 
she  rather  saucily  inquired  what  he  would  do  with 
her  if  they,  too,  were  caught  in  a  severe  snowstorm. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  Mat,  "  I  wouldn't  let 
you  start  out  in  a  snowstorm.  And  in  the  second 


THE  SNOWS  OF  THE  SIERRAS  79 

place,  if  we  should  get  caught,  on  the  return  trip, 
we  would  make  for  the  nearest  shelter  and  stay  there 
till  traveling  was  safe  again." 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  a  stupid  adventure  that  would 
be!  There's  very  little  excitement  in  this  civilized 
country." 

Mat  laughed.  "  So  this  is  what  you  call  a  civilized 
country?  I  don't  see  any  signs  of  civilization  except 
this  road  and  the  water  ditch  yonder." 

Mat  was  quite  right.  In  every  direction  the  frost- 
king  held  sway  over  an  unbroken  wilderness.  The 
massive  ranges  of  the  Sierras,  clothed  all  in  white, 
were  as  majestic  and  as  untamed  as  when  Fremont 
and  Kit  Carson  gazed  down  upon  them  from  their 
snowy  summit.  To  cross  that  mountain  barrier, 
ninety-three  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea, 
would  require  as  much  heroism  as  ever.  The  wise 
old  Indians  knew  better  than  to  attempt  it;  and  so 
did  the  miners.  Only  a  Fremont  or  a  Kit  Carson 
might  pass  over  that  awful  divide  in  safety,  pushing 
on  through  the  deep  drifts,  half  their  mules  and 
horses  dead,  and  their  comrades  staggering  with  ex 
haustion.  How  absolutely  essential  was  that  stage- 
road,  winding  over  the  snow  fields ! 

Soon  Mat  perceived  signs  that  made  him  anxious. 
They  would  reach  Graniteville  without  mishap. 
But  the  return  trip  to-morrow?  A  falling  barometer 
could  not  have  made  him  feel  more  certain  of  an  ap 
proaching  storm.  He  began  to  question  the  disinter 
estedness  which  had  led  him  to  show  Miss  Slocum 
the  splendor  of  the  winter  landscape.  The  girl's 
gay  chatter  could  not  drown  the  voice  of  his  accus- 


80  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

ing  conscience.  Fortunately  for  Mat,  at  this  juncture 
Dr.  Mason  came  to  the  rescue  like  a  fairy  godfather. 

They  picked  the  doctor  up  at  North  Bloomfield. 
His  baggage  included  not  only  his  skis  and  medicine- 
case  but  a  violin  as  well.  For  the  doctor  was  a  musi 
cal  genius;  and  it  had  been  his  proud  achievement  to 
construct  his  own  instrument,  which  friends  vowed 
was  as  excellent  as  a  Stradivarius.  Often  of  a  winter 
evening  his  music  was  more  sought  after  than  his 
medicine.  Mamie  was  delighted. 

"  So  there's  going  to  be  a  party  to-night,"  she  ex 
claimed.  Mat  promptly  seized  the  opportunity  to 
secure  the  lion's  share  of  the  dances,  and  immediately 
congratulated  himself  upon  the  approach  of  the 
storm,  hoping  it  might  bring  a  whole  series  of  parties. 

"  Bless  you,  my  children,"  said  the  doctor,  "  it 
will  be  a  pleasure  to  call  off  the  figures  for  the  likes 
of  you."  The  word  "  eugenics  "  had  not  been  coined 
as  yet,  but  like  all  wise  physicians  the  doctor  be 
lieved  in  the  idea.  It  made  his  heart  rejoice  to  watch 
the  budding  affection  of  these  normal,  healthy  young 
people.  And  he  knew  the  magic  of  the  violin.  And 
so  they  waltzed  on  to  their  heart's  content  in  the 
large  dining-room  of  the  hotel  at  Graniteville.  At 
midnight,  the  feathery  snow  began  to  fall,  insuring 
several  other  blissful  nights.  Between  dances  they 
looked  out  of  doors  and  windows;  when  the  drifts 
buried  the  whole  first  story  of  the  hotel,  the  warmth 
of  that  great  bare  room  seemed  even  more  genial. 

"  The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men  — 
Soft  eyes  look'd  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage  bell." 


THE  SNOWS  or  THE  SIERRAS  81 

When  refreshments  were  served,  so  pleased  was 
the  doctor  with  his  young  friends'  pleasure,  that  he 
drew  them  aside  to  tell  them  a  bit  of  his  family 
history. 

"  My  family,"  said  the  doctor,  "  lived  for  many 
generations  in  Ayrshire,  Scotland,  neighbors  to  the 
family  of  Robert  Burns.  And,  like  the  poet's  people, 
they  were  very  poor.  No  wonder!  The  poor  man 
has  no  chance  in  the  old  country.  Years  ago  an  an 
cestor  of  mine  leased  a  tract  of  worthless  swamp  land 
for  forty-nine  years  at  a  penny  an  acre  per  year.  By 
hard  labor  and  perseverance  he  drained  the  land  and 
made  it  productive.  So  when  the  forty-nine  years 
were  up  and  the  family  sought  an  extension  of  the 
lease,  the  rent  went  up  to  one  pound  an  acre.  This 
was  pretty  hard;  but  by  frugality  and  perseverance 
the  family  still  prospered.  At  the  end  of  the  second 
forty-nine  years  the  rent  demanded  was  five  pounds 
an  acre.  Think  of  it  —  twenty -five  dollars  a  year ! 
That  was  too  much  to  endure,  so  my  father,  then  a 
young  blacksmith,  was  sent  over  to  Canada  to  buy 
land.  He  bought  three  farms  of  a  hundred  acres 
each,  one  for  himself,  one  for  his  brother,  and  one  for 
their  father,  paying  four  dollars  an  acre.  Here  again 
the  rich  man  had  the  upper  hand.  For  this  same 
land  had  been  sold  by  the  British  Government  to 
capitalists  for  twenty -five  cents  an  acre.  Of  course, 
my  people  had  no  money  to  pay  cash  down,  but  they 
quit  Scotland  nevertheless.  They  came  over  in  1832, 
in  a  small  sailing  vessel,  which  took  four  weeks  to 
make  the  passage.  Then  came  another  struggle. 
The  land  was  very  productive,  but  money  was  scarce 


82  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

and  crops  brought  hardly  anything.  But  at  least  the 
Mason  family  had  enough  to  eat.  Finally,  after 
many  years,  the  mortgages  were  paid  off,  and  the 
family  established." 

The  doctor  paused,  and  Mat  thought  he  saw  a 
reason  for  Scotch  grit.  He  contrasted  such  a  history 
with  the  get-rich-quick  methods  of  California! 

"  America,"  continued  the  doctor,  "  is  the  land  of 
opportunity.  With  good  health  and  industry  the 
poor  man  can  succeed."  And  he  looked  at  Mat 
significantly. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  GOLDEN  SUMMER  COMES  AGAIN 

The  golden  summer  had  come  again.  To  old  man 
Palmer,  living  alone  on  the  top  of  Fillmore  Hill,  the 
great  snow  banks  stored  high  upon  the  mountains 
meant  abundance  of  water  for  mining.  The  strange 
flowers  of  California,  yellow  and  red,  grown  familiar 
now  after  many  years,  made  their  appeal  to  him. 
With  the  returning  summer  he  welcomed  the  yellow 
bird  with  red  crown  and  black  wings.  He  loved  the 
exhilarating  air  and  the  glorious  sunshine.  But  I 
am  afraid  the  golden  glow  of  morning  suggested 
gold. 

He  was  cleaning  up  several  square  rods  of  bed-rock 
in  the  ancient  river  bed  on  the  hill-top,  and  the  dirt 
was  rich  in  gold.  Every  morning  early,  leaving  his 
breakfast  dishes  unwashed,  he  carefully  shoveled 
this  dirt  into  his  sluices,  and  watched  the  water  carry 
mud  and  sand  away.  Once  in  a  while  he  would  shut 
off  the  water  to  examine  the  rich  amalgam  at  each 
cleat  across  the  trough,  removing  that  which  was 
saturated  with  gold  and  replacing  it  with  fresh  mer 
cury.  This  clean-up  was  going  to  be  especially  good, 
and  he  was  glad  to  be  alone. 

Treasure  like  this  would  tempt  his  lawless  neigh 
bors.  He  wanted  no  such  rogues  round  as  they  had 
at  Angels  Camp,  Calaveras  County,  where,  accord- 


84  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

ing  to  his  last  copy  of  "  The  California  Democrat," 
the  post-office  had  been  robbed  of  a  thousand  dollars, 
including  one  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  postage 
stamps.  Postage  stamps!  He  laughed  to  think  to 
what  straits  thieves  had  come  in  Calaveras  County. 

Then  he  thought  of  his  own  hard-earned  treasures, 
safely  locked  up  in  the  Hibernia  Bank  of  San  Fran 
cisco  and  with  D.  O.  Mills  of  Sacramento.  Some  day 
kindred  back  in  Connecticut  would  have  cause  to 
praise  his  frugality  and  self-denial.  Sometimes  he 
thought  of  his  blasted  romance  and  of  the  poor  wo 
man  in  San  Francisco  who  scrubbed  floors  for  an 
honest  living.  Ah,  well,  life  is  hard.  His  own  years 
of  toil  were  nearly  over,  as  he  knew  by  unmistakable 
signs.  Perhaps  this  rich  clean-up  would  be  his  last. 
And  so  it  was;  though  nearly  two  years  elapsed 
before  a  merciful  Providence  released  the  old  man 
from  this  world  where  thieves  break  through  and 
steal  the  fruits  of  our  labors. 

The  Woolsey  boys,  young  men  now,  with  the 
strength  of  the  hills  in  bone  and  muscle,  were  the  old 
man's  chief  reliance.  They  could  see  that  he  was 
failing,  and  felt  sincerely  sorry.  They  noted  with 
what  grim  determination  he  stuck  to  his  work.  The 
tenacity  inherited  from  a  hundred  generations  of 
strong  men,  farmers,  sea-kings,  warriors,  nerved  his 
old  arms  and  kept  strong  the  will  within  him. 

One  day  about  the  first  of  August,  in  the  early 
afternoon  when  the  sun  is  hottest,  they  found  the  old 
man  within  doors,  washing  dishes. 

"  Sit  down,  Mr.  Palmer,"  said  John,  the  older  of 
the  boys,  "  and  we  will  do  the  dishes  for  you." 


THE  GOLDEN  SUMMER  COMES  AGAIN      85 

"  Well,  boys,  go  ahead.  I  know  what  famous  pot- 
wrastlers  ye  be.  I  can't  compete  with  you."  And  he 
gladly  sat  down,  to  examine  a  legal  document  the 
boys  had  brought  him.  For  one  Dupre,  who  had  a 
rough  farm  at  the  bottom  of  the  canon  and  sold  the 
old  man  vegetables,  had  sued  him  for  damages,  be 
cause  the  dirt  washed  down  from  Palmer's  diggings 
had  covered  up  a  few  square  rods  of  grass  land.  The 
damage  was  slight,  but  the  Frenchman  was  thrifty, 
and  had  sued  for  a  round  sum.  Palmer  was  quite 
willing  to  pay  actual  damages,  but  he  had  refused 
to  be  robbed.  A  compromise  had  finally  been  made, 
and  Dupre  agreed  to  withdraw  his  suit  upon  the 
payment  of  fifty  dollars.  To  this  contract  the  old 
man  now  affixed  his  signature,  in  a  very  shaky  hand. 

"  There,  I'm  glad  that's  settled,"  said  he.  And  a 
moment  later  he  had  fallen  out  of  his  chair  upon  the 
floor. 

Miner's  paralysis!  Even  the  Woolsey  boys  knew 
the  symptoms.  They  lifted  the  old  man  up  and  put 
him  on  his  bed,  gave  him  whiskey,  and  then  con 
sulted  as  to  their  next  duty.  They  could  not  leave 
him  there  alone  upon  the  mountain-top;  nor  was  it 
an  easy  matter  to  descend  to  the  bottom  of  the  canon 
for  help. 

"  You  stay  here,  Charley,"  said  John,  "  and  I'll  go 
for  Dr.  Mason." 

"  That  won't  do,  Jack.  It  will  be  five  o'clock  be 
fore  you  can  cross  the  canon,  and  dark  by  the  time 
you  reach  North  Bloomfield.  Alleghany  City  is  the 
place  to  strike  for.  Get  Dr.  Lefevre  over  there.  They 
say  he  can  cure  paralysis  if  any  man  can." 


86  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

"  It's  no  easy  trip  to  Alleghany,  either,"  said  John 
thoughtfully.  "  The  canon  of  Wolf  Creek  is  as  bad 
as  the  canon  of  the  Middle  Yuba.  And  there's 
Kanaka  Creek  beyond." 

:<  Then  again,  whichever  way  you  go,"  responded 
his  brother,  "  you  ain't  sure  of  finding  the  doctor. 
Better  take  the  old  man  with  us  and  make  for  Alle 
ghany,  I  guess." 

This  seemed  the  most  feasible  plan.  So  they  sad 
dled  Palmer's  sure-footed  horse,  put  his  sick  master 
into  the  saddle,  and  started  down  the  trail  across  the 
canon  of  Wolf  Creek.  It  was  a  long,  hard  trip.  To 
the  Woolsey  boys,  holding  and  steadying  the  old  man, 
the  canon  had  never  seemed  so  deep.  At  last  they 
reached  the  Plumbago  Mine,  on  the  opposite  height, 
where  they  borrowed  two  mules  to  carry  them  the 
rest  of  the  way.  It  was  easy  going  now  as  far  as 
Chipp's  Flat.  Late  in  the  evening  they  climbed  the 
steep  trail  from  Kanaka  Creek  to  Alleghany  City, 
took  their  charge  to  the  hotel,  and  hunted  up  Dr. 
Lefevre. 

So  began  a  long,  hard  sickness,  the  first  serious 
sickness  Robert  Palmer  had  suffered  since  his  arrival 
in  the  gold  fields.  For  days  he  lay  helpless.  As  soon 
as  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  take  notice  of  his 
surroundings,  he  begged  to  be  moved  from  the  noisy 
hotel,  with  its  sickening  smells,  to  the  cabin  of  an  old 
friend  named  Lee,  who  lived  some  distance  from  the 
main  street. 

There  are  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  streets  in 
Alleghany  City,  the  principal  one  being  the  road 
along  the  mountain-side,  which,  leaving  the  village, 


THE  GOLDEN  SUMMER  COMES  AGAIN      87 

climbs  up  over  an  ancient  stream  of  lava,  and  crossing 
the  summit  of  the  mountain  plunges  down  to  Forest 
City.  Dr.  Lefevre  was  the  only  doctor  in  the  two 
"  cities,"  and  spent  much  of  his  time  crossing  the 
high  ridge  that  separates  the  two.  He  often  wished 
that  the  miners,  in  pursuit  of  gold-bearing  gravel, 
had  dug  a  passage-way  through  the  ridge,  as  they 
had  done  on  the  opposite  side  of  Kanaka  Creek, 
where  there  was  a  tunnel  from  Chipp's  Flat  to  Minne 
sota.  But  on  this  side  of  the  creek  they  mined  for 
quartz.  However,  the  miners  were  good  patients, 
and  some  day  the  doctor  hoped  to  return  to  France 
with  the  gold  his  skill  had  earned  him. 

With  a  Frenchman's  zeal  for  science  and  thor 
oughness,  he  was  a  most  excellent  physician.  By  the 
first  of  October,  Robert  Palmer  was  cured.  To  the 
doctor  it  seemed  almost  a  miracle;  and  he  cautioned 
the  old  miner  kindly: 

"  Mr.  Palmer,  one  can  never  tell  about  this  malady. 
To-day  you  are  well,  thanks  to  your  remarkable  con 
stitution  and  a  Frenchman's  art.  Next  month,  per 
haps  "  —  and  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  you  have  any  business  matters  to  settle,  mon 
sieur,  any  affair  of  the  heart,  any  will  to  make,  you 
had  better  attend  to  such  things  while  the  good  Lord 
gives  you  strength." 

Robert  Palmer  heeded  this  advice;  and  so,  a  few 
days  after,  when  he  had  returned  to  his  house  on  Fill- 
more  Hill,  he  wrote  the  following  remarkable  docu 
ment: 

"Fillmore  Hill,  Oct.  12,  1880. 

"I, Robert  Palmer,  the  undersigned,  of  sound  mind, 


88  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

declare  this  to  be  my  last  will  and  testament.  After 
my  death  it  is  my  will  that  after  all  just,  honest 
debts  and  expenses  are  paid,  if  there  is  any  property 
left  that  it  shall  be  divided  equally  between  my 
nieces  and  nephews:  that  is,  each  one  shall  receive 
an  equal  share;  and  it  is  also  my  will  that  should  a 
majority  of  my  nieces  believe  money  or  other  prop 
erty  placed  in  the  hands  of  any  of  their  number 
would  not  be  used  properly  the  others  shall  hold  such 
money  or  property  and  pay  it  to  the  owner  at  such 
times  and  in  such  amounts  as  they  may  think  best: 
and  it  is  also  my  will  that  the  same  plan  shall  be 
adopted  and  carried  out  with  regard  to  my  nephews 
as  I  have  named  above  for  my  nieces,  except  my 
nephews  shall  hold  the  property. 

"  Now  then  be  it  known  that  I  hereby  appoint  as 
my  administrators  or  executors,  to  execute  and  carry 
out  the  above  my  will,  the  following  named  persons, 
(to  wit),  John  Hintzen  of  Forest  City,  Sierra  County; 
John  Haggerty  of  Moore's  Flat,  Nevada  County, 
and  Henry  Francis  of  Moore's  Flat,  Nevada  County: 
also  James  B.  Francis  of  Reeds ville,  Mifflin  County, 
Pennsylvania;  to  act  without  bonds,  and  also  to  act 
without  the  interference  of  any  court  of  law  or  any 
Public  Administrator  whatever;  to  act  at  all  times 
and  under  all  circumstances  to  the  best  of  their  judg 
ment  in  settling  my  affairs:  if  they  have  patience 
they  may  hear  any  pleas  my  relations  have  to  offer, 
but  I  wish  them  in  the  end  to  stand  firm  and  resolute 
on  their  own  judgment,  and  take  time  to  settle  the 
concern  whether  it  need  one  year  or  twenty  years. 

"  And  furthermore  it  is  my  will  that  if  the  above 


THE  GOLDEN  SUMMER  COMES  AGAIN      89 

named  persons  cannot  act  conveniently  then  if  two 
or  more  act  they  shall  have  the  same  power  as  if  all 
acted;  but  if  only  two  act  they  shall  both  agree  on  all 
the  matters,  but  if  more  act  then  the  majority  may 
rule. 

ROBERT  PALMER." 
Oct.  12,  1880. 

Only  one  who  knows  the  spirit  of  early  California 
can  understand  this  document.  Its  beginning  is 
modest:  "if  there  is  any  property  left."  What 
amount  was  the  old  man  about  to  distribute?  He 
was  too  cautious  to  mention  it;  and  when  his  friend 
John  Hintzen  of  Forest  City,  in  whose  safe  the  will 
was  deposited,  wrote  asking  for  a  list  of  the  prop 
erty,  the  old  man  parried  the  question. 

Another  curious  feature  of  this  document  is  that 
the  old  man  chose  two  executors.  He  did  not  care 
to  trust  any  one  friend  too  far,  apparently. 

Robert  Palmer,  Democrat,  paid  his  respects  to 
courts  and  lawyers.  His  executors  were  "  to  act 
without  bonds,  and  also  to  act  without  interference 
of  any  court  of  law  or  any  Public  Administrator 
whatever."  He  might  better  have  trusted  the  courts, 
as  we  shall  see,  for  his  friends  failed  him.  After 
thirty  years  the  executors  all  died;  and  to  this  day 
the  will  of  Robert  Palmer  is  an  unsolved  mystery. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL 

The  gold  that  with  the  sunlight  lies 

In  bursting  heaps  at  dawn, 
The  silver  spilling  from  the  skies 

At  night  to  walk  upon, 
The  diamonds  gleaming  in  the  dew 

He  never  saw,  he  never  knew. 

He  got  some  gold,  dug  from  the  mud, 

Some  silver,  crushed  from  stones, 
The  gold  was  red  with  dead  men's  blood, 

The  silver  black  with  groans; 
And  when  he  died  he  moaned  aloud, 

"  There  '11  be  no  pocket  in  my  shroud." 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

John  Keeler,  returned  from  his  travels,  became 
Palmer's  trusted  messenger  to  Hintzen,  to  whom  the 
old  man  sent  a  copy  of  his  will.  Keeler  was  provided 
with  another  copy  to  deposit  at  the  court-house  in 
Downieville,  county  seat  of  Sierra  County.  For  al 
though  Robert  Palmer  disliked  courts  and  lawyers, 
he  deemed  it  wise  to  file  a  copy  of  his  will  at  the  court 
house.  This  he  could  do  without  telling  Hintzen,  so 
he  instructed  Keeler,  after  having  seen  that  gentle 
man  at  Forest  City,  to  continue  over  the  mountains 
to  Downieville,  as  if  on  private  business. 

Honest  John  Keeler,  after  a  year  spent  in  tracking 
criminals,  had  little  liking  for  this  new  mission.  It 
seemed  as  if  his  old  friend  thought  all  men  rogues. 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  91 

Such  a  sweeping  condemnation  would  include  him 
self,  and  he  resented  the  insinuation.  However,  the 
old  man  was  still  feeble.  So  Keeler  set  out  on  foot 
across  the  mountains. 

It  had  been  some  time  since  he  had  been  as  far  as 
Chipp's  Flat.  There  he  sought  out  the  old  cannon, 
long  since  dismounted,  and  sitting  down  upon  it  he 
thought  of  the  changes  wrought  in  that  neighbor 
hood  within  his  recollection.  In  Civil  War  times, 
eighteen  years  before,  miners  of  Chipp's  Flat  and 
vicinity  had  enlisted  in  the  Union  Army.  There  had 
been  a  full  company  of  a  hundred  men,  and  the  can 
non  had  been  a  part  of  their  equipment.  But  the 
cannon  had  not  left  that  California  mountain-side; 
and  the  soldiers  themselves  had  got  no  further  East 
than  Arizona,  for  in  those  days  there  was  no  trans 
continental  railroad.  Now  that  there  was  one, 
Chipp's  Flat  had  no  need  of  it.  Save  for  two  or 
three  scattered  houses  the  mining  town  had  disap 
peared.  The  mountain  ridge  had  been  mined  through 
from  Minnesota,  and  now  that  the  gold-bearing 
gravel  had  been  exhausted,  Chipp's  Flat,  except  in 
name,  had  gone  out  of  existence. 

The  next  thing  of  interest  was  the  dirty  blue  water 
of  Kanaka  Creek,  and  the  clatter  of  the  stamping 
mills  on  the  other  side  of  it;  for  Keeler  was  not  much 
used  to  quartz  mining.  The  name  "  quartz  mining  " 
seemed  misleading,  for  the  wash  from  the  crushed 
rock  was  distinctly  blue.  It  was  evident  that  these 
quartz  mines  were  paying  well,  as  Alleghany  had 
every  appearance  of  a  live  mining  town.  Keeler 
stopped  at  the  hotel  there  for  dinner.  It  seemed 


92  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

strange  that  intelligent  men  should  so  lose  their 
heads.  Great  quantities  of  liquor  were  being  con 
sumed  at  the  hotel  bar,  poker  games  were  in  full 
blast,  and  there  was  a  cemetery  handy. 

Keeler  was  glad  to  leave  Alleghany  to  climb  over 
the  mountain  ridge  to  Forest  City.  Now  to  the  east 
ward  the  lofty  peaks  of  the  Sierras  hove  into  view, 
dwarfing  the  mountain  ridges  of  the  gold  fields.  He 
paused  to  inspect  the  ancient  stream  of  lava  which 
crossed  his  path,  and  considered  once  more  those 
convulsions  of  the  earth  which  had  thrown  the  an 
cient  river  beds  to  the  hill-tops,  and  of  which  Cali 
fornia  earthquakes  are  a  constant  reminder. 

Arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  he  looked  down 
upon  Forest  City,  a  straggling  village  in  a  barren 
valley  denuded  of  forests.  Church,  school,  and  ceme 
tery  gave  the  place  an  air  of  permanence;  but  some 
day  it  might  disappear,  like  Chipp's  Flat.  It  lay 
almost  beneath  him,  so  steep  was  the  road  down  the 
mountain.  Beyond,  up  the  bare  valley  of  a  moun 
tain  stream,  lay  the  trail  to  Downieville,  nine  miles 
away.  His  mission  to  Hintzen  performed,  he  would 
spend  the  night  at  Forest  City,  and  push  on  to 
Downieville  the  next  morning. 

Hintzen  kept  the  general  store  at  Forest  City,  a 
business  more  certain  and  profitable  than  gold-min 
ing;  and  having  a  reputation  for  strict  honesty,  he 
had  become  a  sort  of  agent  and  business  manager  for 
the  miners.  He  was  one  of  the  few  men  Robert 
Palmer  trusted;  therefore  he  received  the  document 
from  Keeler's  hand  without  surprise.  But  he  could 
not  repress  a  smile  at  the  testator's  extreme  caution 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  93 

and  resolved  forthwith  to  ask  for  a  list  of  his  friend's 
securities. 

"  How  is  the  old  man  now?  "  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Palmer  has  had  a  close  call,"  replied  Keeler. 
"  But  he  is  good  for  a  couple  of  years  yet,  I  reckon." 

"  Sit  down,  Keeler,  while  I  write  him  a  note. 
You'll  find  a  whiskey  toddy  up  there  at  the  end  of  the 
counter.  —  Beg  your  pardon.  Forgot  your  temper 
ance  principles.  There's  fresh  spring  water  in  that 
bucket." 

Next  morning  Keeler  pushed  on  up  the  ascending 
valley  of  the  mountain  torrent.  The  horns  of  a  wild 
sheep  by  the  wayside  reminded  him  of  earlier  days 
when  game  was  plentiful.  The  only  wild  creatures 
along  the  trail  to-day  were  rattlesnakes.  With  these 
he  was  well  acquainted.  But  it  did  give  him  a  start 
to  find  one  twined  about  a  branch  of  a  bush. 

An  hour's  steady  climbing  brought  him  to  the  top 
of  the  watershed  between  the  North  and  the  Middle 
Yuba.  Here  a  scene  of  wild  grandeur  lay  before  him. 
Bare  crags  on  either  hand  guarded  the  pass  over  the 
divide.  Immediately  in  front  lay  a  whole  system  of 
deep  canons,  clothed  with  primeval  forests,  wild  and 
forbidding.  Beyond  towered  a  chain  of  rough,  bare 
mountain  peaks.  Keeler  paused  to  wonder  anew  at 
the  vastness  of  the  Sierras. 

Then  he  plunged  down  from  the  ridge  and  was 
soon  traversing  one  of  the  most  lonesome  and  gloomy 
trails  in  all  the  mountains.  The  tree  trunks  were  cov 
ered  with  yellowish  green  moss.  In  one  place  stood  a 
pine  stump  fifty  feet  high  with  the  upper  hundred 
feet  of  the  tree  thrust  into  the  earth  beside  it.  At 


94  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

another  place  a  huge  log  blocked  the  trail.  Then  he 
crossed  a  brook  and  was  among  chaparral  and  man- 
zanita  bushes.  Then  he  was  among  the  pines  again, 
listening  to  their  voices,  for  a  breeze  was  blowing  up 
the  canon.  Now  he  came  to  a  spooky  region  which 
had  been  swept  by  fire,  with  bare  tree  trunks,  broken 
and  going  to  decay,  standing  like  ghosts  of  the  forest. 
Beyond  was  a  clump  of  young  firs  with  gray  stems,  so 
straight  and  perfect  as  to  be  almost  uncanny.  Or 
was  it  the  traveler's  overwrought  imagination? 

Now  the  trail  turned  at  right  angles  along  the  steep 
side  of  a  canon,  and  he  heard  the  music  of  the  moun 
tain  torrent  far  below.  Half  a  mile  further  on,  where 
the  trail  crossed  the  brook  at  the  head  of  the  canon, 
it  doubled  back  on  itself  along  the  other  side.  The 
traveler  refreshed  himself  at  a  mossy  spring  by  the 
side  of  the  trail,  then,  as  he  emerged  from  the  canon 
at  a  sudden  turn,  Downieville  appeared.  It  lay  far 
below  him,  at  the  forks  of  the  North  Yuba.  How 
musically  the  roar  of  the  river  came  up  through  the 
autumn  stillness!  Sign  boards  pointing  to  the  Ruby 
Mine,  and  to  the  City  of  Six,  prepare  the  traveler 
for  the  discovery  of  some  settlement  in  the  wilder 
ness.  But  he  is  hardly  prepared  for  such  a  beautiful 
and  welcome  sight.  Here,  tucked  away  among  the 
mountains  as  tidily  as  some  Eastern  village,  lies 
the  county  seat  of  Sierra  County.  But  this  is  Cali 
fornia  and  not  Maryland,  for  yonder  comes  a  moun 
taineer  up  the  trail  with  his  pack  horses. 

Keeler  lost  no  time  in  descending  and  transacting 
his  business  at  the  court-house.  But  after  his  lone 
some  walk  over  the  mountains  something  he  saw 


THE  END  OF  THE  TRAIL  95 

here  appealed  to  his  imagination.  It  was  a  human 
skull,  which  had  belonged  to  a  murderer.  The  mur 
dered  man  was  a  Frenchman,  killed  for  his  money. 
This  was  Keeler's  first  visit  to  Downieville  since  the 
crime,  and  as  he  had  known  the  Frenchman  he  de 
termined  to  visit  his  grave. 

The  cemetery  is  up  the  river  beyond  the  edge  of  the 
town;  and  here,  in  more  senses  than  one,  a  traveler 
finds  the  end  of  the  trail.  Men  and  women  whose 
life  journey  had  begun  in  New  England,  Old  Eng 
land,  Wales,  Ireland,  France,  Denmark,  or  Russia, 
had  here  come  to  their  journey's  end. 

At  the  cemetery  gate,  fastened  by  a  wire,  was  the 

quaint  sign: 

"  NOTICE 

PLEASE  PUT  THIS  WIRE  ON  AGIN 
TO  KEEP  IT  SHUT." 

A  beautiful  clear  mountain  stream  flows  along  one 
side  of  the  ground  and  pours  into  the  river  below.  A 
lone  pine  chants  requiems  over  the  dead;  and  yellow 
poppies  with  red  hearts  spring  out  of  the  graves. 
Many  of  the  headstones  are  boards,  naturally;  and 
one  poor  fellow,  whose  estate  at  death  was  probably 
a  minus  quantity,  is  commemorated  by  a  strip  of  tin 
with  his  name  pricked  into  it.  There  is  a  fair  pro 
portion  of  pretentious  monuments,  which  were  drawn 
by  ten-horse  teams  from  some  distant  railroad 
station. 

Marked  by  such  a  monument  was  the  grave  which 
Keeler  sought.  The  symbolism  was  striking,  —  a 
broken  column,  an  angel  holding  out  an  olive  branch, 


96  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

and  Father  Time.  And  this  was  the  verse  of  Scripture 
carved  in  stone: 

"  Man  walketh  in  a  vain  shadow: 
he  heapeth  up  riches  and  cannot 
tell  who  shall  gather  them." 

Forgetting  the  murdered  Frenchman  in  the  force- 
fulness  of  the  text,  Keeler  wondered  if  Robert 
Palmer's  journey,  too,  would  end  like  this. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITIES 

In  California  Opportunity  knocked  at  every  gate  — 
not  once  but  many  times.  It  returned  again  and 
again,  most  persistently,  and  intruded  alike  on  men 
awake  and  feasting,  or  asleep  and  dreaming.  John 
Keeler  had  hardly  spent  an  hour  in  Downieville 
before  he  had  met  a  Golden  Opportunity.  On  ap 
proaching  the  town  he  had  passed  several  short 
tunnels  dug  into  the  hill-side,  and  at  the  court-house 
he  met  the  owners  of  one  of  these  tunnels.  Smith 
came  from  Ohio,  —  he  had  for  many  years  been  a 
teacher,  and  was  a  member  of  the  Grand  Army  of  the 
Republic.  His  partner,  whom  he  introduced  as  a 
Confederate  veteran,  was  a  Virginian.  As  partners, 
the  blue  and  the  gray  were  almost  irresistible.  Three 
hundred  dollars  invested  in  their  shaft  would  mean  a 
rich  strike. 

But  other  Opportunities  had  left  Keeler  rich  in  ex 
perience  and  short  of  cash.  He  could  not  use  Robert 
Palmer's  money  as  his  own;  so  he  could  only  smile, 
rather  sadly,  and  wish  his  new  friends  success.  How 
many  of  his  acquaintances  had  invested  good  money 
in  a  hole  in  the  ground!  Even  the  most  prudent,  in 
some  unguarded  moment,  had  parted  with  thousands 
of  dollars,  like  the  dog  in  the  fable  which  dropped 
the  real  bone  to  seize  the  shadow.  There  was  Mack, 


98  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

proprietor  of  the  hotel  at  Graniteville,  making  lots  of 
money  at  his  business  and  losing  it  all  in  mining 
ventures.  Only  the  other  day  Mack  had  remarked 
that  if  his  savings  had  been  allowed  to  accumulate 
in  some  good  bank  he  would  now  be  worth  some  fifty 
thousand  dollars.  As  it  was,  he  was  as  poor  as  his 
humblest  guest.  Even  Dr.  Mason,  canny  Scot 
though  he  was,  could  not  forget  the  sight  of  ninety 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  gold  bullion  he  had  once 
seen  piled  up  at  North  Bloomfield,  and  so  was  per 
suaded  to  gamble  with  his  earnings.  He  had  lost 
as  much  as  Mack.  How  rosy  is  the  rainbow,  and 
how  evanescent  the  pot  of  gold  at  the  end  of  it! 
California  had  swallowed  up  more  wealth  than  its 
gold  could  ever  repay,  as  Keeler  well  knew.  It  was 
only  occasionally  that  some  lucky  devil,  or  some 
prudent,  saving  man  like  Robert  Palmer,  after  thirty 
years  in  the  gold  fields,  had  anything  to  show  for  it. 

So  Keeler,  pondering  the  deceitfulness  of  riches, 
sadly  made  his  way  back  across  the  mountains.  Even 
then  Fate  was  weaving  her  web  about  his  old  friend 
Palmer,  who  was  soon  to  lie  in  a  pauper's  grave. 
Francis  seized  a  Golden  Opportunity. 

Francis  had  so  far  prospered  that  he  had  moved 
to  San  Francisco.  In  the  city  he  could  watch  the 
stock  market,  as  he  told  himself  privately.  To  his 
friends  he  announced  that  failing  health  demanded 
the  change,  albeit  the  exhilarating  air  of  the  Sierras 
was  far  more  beneficial  than  the  dampness  of  the 
sea  coast.  But  Francis,  inheriting  ten  thousand  dol 
lars  from  one  of  his  deceased  brothers,  had  moved 
to  San  Francisco,  taking  with  him  sundry  hundreds 


GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITIES  99 

and  thousands  of  dollars,  entrusted  to  him  by  his 
Pennsylvania  friends  for  investment.  Everybody 
had  faith  in  the  integrity  of  Henry  Francis. 

The  next  summer,  when  the  blue-bells  were  in 
blossom  at  Grass  Valley,  he  passed  through  that 
prosperous  mining  town  on  the  narrow  gauge  bound 
for  Nevada  City  and  Moore's  Flat.  This  was  the 
summer  of  1881,  nearly  two  years  after  the  murder 
of  Cummins.  A  still,  small  voice  accused  him  of 
something  akin  to  highway  robbery;  and  it  gave  his 
conscience  a  twinge  to  pass  the  well-known  stump 
which  had  concealed  the  robbers.  It  was  bad  enough 
that  the  robbers  were  still  at  large,  a  fact  that  re 
flected  upon  him.  "  Bed-bug  Brown's "  mission 
had  proved  a  fiasco.  But  the  thing  that  really  wor 
ried  Francis  was  his  own  mission  and  not  the  fruitless 
one  of  Brown's.  If  his  own  proved  fruitless  his  con 
science  might  be  better  satisfied. 

But  business  is  business,  and  the  day  was  fine. 
Francis  was  a  gentleman  and  something  of  a  scholar. 
His  face  showed  refinement,  and  his  hands  were  as 
soft  as  a  gambler's.  He  was  fairly  well  read,  and  he 
could  have  told  you,  when  the  stage  crossed  the 
South  Yuba,  that  "  Uvas  "  is  Spanish  for  "  grapes," 
and  that  the  name  "  Yuba  "  is  a  curious  English 
abbreviation  of  "  Rio  Las  Uvas." 

When  next  day  he  crossed  the  foot-bridge  over  the 
Middle  Yuba,  where  it  tears  along  in  its  deep,  wild 
canon  below  Moore's  Flat,  he  was  less  interested  in 
Spanish  or  in  the  grandeur  of  the  scenery  than  he 
was  in  reaching  Robert  Palmer's.  He  had  not  hired 
a  horse  at  Moore's  Flat,  as  the  livery  man  might  be 


100  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

curious;  so  he  had  sauntered  along  through  the  vil 
lage,  greeting  old  friends  and  chatting  with  them 
now  and  then  until  considerable  time  had  been  con 
sumed,  but  he  knew  that  the  old  man  would  put  him 
up  for  the  night. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  he  reached  the 
top  of  Fillmore  Hill.  Old  man  Palmer,  much  broken 
in  health,  as  Francis  remarked  with  a  degree  of  in 
ward  exultation  immediately  reproved  by  his  con 
science,  greeted  him  affectionately. 

"  Well,  Henry,  I  almost  thought  you  had  forgotten 
me.  But,  of  course,  I  knew  better." 

"  You  must  remember,  Mr.  Palmer,  that  it  is 
quite  a  ways  up  here  from  the  city.  The  narrow 
gauge  from  Colfax  is  little  better  than  a  stage 
coach.  It  means  a  trip  of  fifty  miles  into  the  moun 
tains  to  get  here." 

"  Well,  I'm  mighty  glad  you've  come.  As  soon 
as  you've  rested  a  bit,  I  want  to  talk  business." 

Francis  argued  with  his  conscience  that  the  old 
man  had  invited  him.  How  could  he  have  refused 
to  answer  the  summons?  Palmer  ushered  him  into 
the  house,  where,  seated  comfortably  in  the  kitchen 
and  welcomed  by  dog  and  cat,  he  partook  of  the  old 
man's  hospitality.  Palmer  was  evidently  much 
wrought  up;  and,  as  soon  as  his  guest  had  rested  a 
little,  proceeded  to  business. 

"  You  got  my  letter?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Palmer." 

"  Hintzen  has  informed  you  that  I've  named  you 
as  one  of  my  executors?  " 

"  Yes." 


GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITIES  101 

"  And  you  will  be  willing  to  act,  I  hope?  " 

"  Well,  Mr.  Palmer,  I  hope  that  won't  be  necessary 
for  many  years  to  come." 

"  The  Lord  only  knows  how  long  I  have  to  live. 
It  was  rather  hard  for  me  here  last  winter.  But  I 
guess  the  mountain  air  was  good  for  me.  However, 
I'm  going  to  spend  next  winter  at  Sherwood's.  The 
Woolsey  boys  say  they'll  take  good  care  of  me;  and 
I'm  going  to  deed  them  my  claim." 

"  Better  come  to  San  Francisco.  I  saw  a  friend  of 
yours  down  there  the  other  day,  a  Mrs.  Somers,  who 
always  inquires  about  you." 

"And  how  is  she  getting  along  these  days, Francis?  " 

"  She  appears  to  be  well.  Says  hard  work  agrees 
with  her." 

"  Glad  to  hear  good  news  of  her.  She  writes  me 
occasionally.  Remember  me  to  her  when  you  see 
her." 

"  Then  you  don't  think  you'll  go  below  with  me?  " 
("  Going  below  "  was  local  parlance  for  going  to  San 
Francisco.) 

"  No.  I'd  feel  like  a  fish  out  of  water  in  that  big 
city.  I'll  be  comfortable  at  the  Sherwood's.  I'll 
have  to  depend  upon  you  to  send  me  some  money 
occasionally." 

"  Hintzen  writes  me  that  he  has  your  will  locked 
up  in  his  safe.  I  suppose  you  have  given  him  a  list 
of  your  property?  " 

"  He  has  written  me  asking  for  a  list;  but  I'm  not 
going  to  give  him  any."  If  the  old  man  had  not 
trusted  Francis  so  implicitly  he  might  have  noticed 
an  expression  of  relief  light  up  that  gentleman's  dark 
eyes. 


FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

"  So  I  handle  your  funds,  and  Hintzen  holds  your 
will,"  smiled  Francis.  "  Do  you  think  that  is  fair  to 
either  of  us?  " 

"  Oh,  as  for  the  will,  I've  kept  a  copy,  which  you 
may  as  well  look  at."  And  he  fetched  the  document. 

Francis  read  it  over  very  carefully;  and  then 
looked  up  with  an  expression  of  undisguised  satis 
faction. 

"  I'm  glad  you  put  it  that  way,"  he  said.  "  You 
leave  it  to  us  to  act  in  accordance  with  our  best 
judgment,  whether  it  takes  one  year  or  twenty  years. 
That  leaves  us  free  to  dispose  of  securities  to  the  best 
advantage,  and  not  sacrifice  them  in  a  falling  market." 

*  Yes,  I  was  thinking  of  that  investment  you  ad 
vised  me  to  make  a  year  ago." 

Francis  winced  a  little;  for  the  old  man  probably 
knew  how  low  a  certain  stock  had  fallen. 

"  I  see  you've  named  my  brother  back  in  Pennsyl 
vania  as  one  of  the  executors." 

6  Yes;  as  most  of  my  heirs  live  in  the  East,  I 
thought  your  brother  could  hunt  them  up,  and  let 
you  do  business  through  him." 

*  That  is  a  good  idea.   But  don't  you  think  Hintzen 
and  Haggerty  ought  to  have  a  list  of  your  prop 
erty?   If  you  should  die,  and  they  found  on  examin 
ing  your  books  and  papers  that  you  had  trusted  me 
but  not  them,  why,  naturally,  they  would  feel  hurt." 

'  Well,  Haggerty 's  an  Irishman,  and  Hintzen's  a 
Dutchman.  You  are  an  American  like  myself,  and, 
what's  more,  a  Democrat  after  my  own  heart.  I 
want  you  to  hold  the  funds." 

"  If  you  feel  that  way,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  tell 


GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITIES  10S 

anybody.  For  if  they  knew  I  had  money  belonging  to 
you  people  would  suspect  me  of  helping  myself  to  it." 

Francis  had  been  rehearsing  this  speech  for  several 
days;  but  was  now  rather  surprised  that  he  had  the 
nerve  to  utter  it.  But  the  old  man  trusted  him.  Was 
not  Francis  almost  a  son  to  him? 

If  he  had  been,  he  could  not  have  inherited  the 
old  man's  property  more  surely.  He  stayed  over 
night  on  Fillmore  Hill;  and  when  he  departed  next 
morning,  he  took  with  him  bank  books  and  securities 
and  a  letter  to  Palmer's  banker  which  made  Francis 
the  custodian  of  all  his  money.  He  even  took  a  small 
chamois  skin  bag  filled  with  gold  nuggets  which  the 
old  man  had  saved.  And  he  left  behind  at  the  house 
on  Fillmore  Hill  not  a  receipt  or  a  paper  of  any  kind 
that  would  indicate  that  Palmer  ever  had  had  any 
money.  They  had  burned  all  such  tell-tale  records; 
and  Henry  Francis  felt  that  he  was  guilty  of  some 
thing  baser  than  highway  robbery.  Yet,  if  the  stock 
market  should  take  an  upward  turn,  all  might  be 
well. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THREE  GRAVES  BY  THE  MIDDLE  YUBA 

Gaily  bedight 

A  gallant  knight, 
In  sunshine  and  in  shadow, 

Had  journeyed  long, 

Singing  a  song, 
In  search  of  Eldorado. 

But  he  grew  old  — 

This  knight  so  bold  — 
And  o'er  his  heart  a  shadow 

Fell  as  he  found 

No  spot  of  ground 
That  looked  like  Eldorado. 

And,  as  his  strength 
Failed  him  at  length, 
He  met  a  pilgrim  shadow  — 
"Shadow,"  said  he, 
"  Where  can  it  be  — 
This  land  of  Eldorado?  " 

"  Over  the  Mountains 

Of  the  Moon, 

Down  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow, 
Ride,  boldly  ride," 
The  shade  replied, 
"  If  you  seek  for  Eldorado!  " 

EDGAR  ALLAN  POE. 

Robert  Palmer's  diggings  on  Fillmore  Hill  are  still 
plainly  seen  from  the  stage  road  on  the  other  side  of 
the  canon  of  the  Middle  Yuba;  but  he  who  has  the 
hardihood  to  cross  the  canon  will  find  the  mine 
worked  out,  the  water-ditch  dry,  and  the  old  man's 


THREE  GRAVES  BY  THE  MIDDLE  YUBA     105 

house  pulled  down.  The  basement  of  the  house  still 
affords  shelter  to  adventurers  who  come  to  dig  for 
Palmer's  hidden  treasure.  There  is  no  other  treasure 
on  that  barren  hill-top,  for  the  Woolsey  boys,  to 
whom  the  old  man  deeded  his  mine,  worked  out  the 
paying  gravel  long  ago. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  canon,  and  just  across  the 
cold,  rushing  river,  is  a  clump  of  rose  bushes,  which 
mark  the  spot  where  the  Woolsey  brothers  lived  with 
their  mother  and  old  Sherwood,  their  step-father. 
Beyond  the  rose  bushes,  in  the  edge  of  a  meadow,  are 
three  lonely  graves,  covered  by  the  branches  of 
alders,  unmarked  save  for  flat  field  stones,  and  un 
known  except  to  a  few  ranchmen  who  drive  their 
cattle  up  the  river  for  summer  pasturage.  The  first 
burial  was  that  of  one  "  Scotty,"  a  ranchman.  In 
1915  there  was  living  at  the  Soldiers'  Home  in  the 
Napa  Valley  an  octogenarian,  last  surviving  member 
of  the  Keystone  Club,  who  had  helped  to  dig  Scotty's 
grave.  In  the  middle  grave  by  the  Middle  Yuba  lies 
the  body  of  Robert  Palmer.  The  third  grave  is  that 
of  Sherwood.  No  doubt  these  Calif ornians  rest  as 
peacefully  as  those  whose  mortal  remains  have  been 
gathered  into  the  cemetery  at  Downieville.  Mother 
Earth  has  received  her  children  back  into  her  bosom, 
and  day  and  night  the  river  chants  their  requiem. 

In  September,  ten  weeks  after  Henry  Francis's 
visit,  Palmer  put  his  house  in  order,  and  with  Sammy, 
the  cat  and  his  dog  Bruce,  sought  protection  at 
Sherwood's.  For  Sherwood  he  had  little  respect;  and 
he  thought  Mrs.  Sherwood  a  silly  woman  to  have 
brought  her  boys  to  such  a  home.  But  the  boys  were 


106  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

now  grown  men,  friendly,  generous,  and  strong.  The 
old  man  had  no  better  neighbors. 

He  insisted,  proud  and  independent  to  the  last, 
that  he  should  provision  the  family  for  the  winter. 
So  he  drew  on  Hintzen,  who  packed  in  an  abundance 
of  good  things  from  Forest  City.  Every  night  the 
old  man  sat  by  the  stove.  He  liked  to  stroke  Sam 
my's  sleek  coat  and  listen  to  the  cat's  affectionate 
purring.  He  liked  to  tell  how  his  dog  Bruce  had 
saved  his  life.  For  it  seems  Palmer  had  once  started 
off  for  Forest  City  by  night,  was  stricken  with 
a  paralytic  shock,  and,  falling  unconscious  in  the 
woods,  was  finally  rescued  by  neighbors  wrho  had 
heard  the  dog's  insistent  barking. 

When  the  snow  was  deep  in  the  canon,  and  the 
supply  of  provisions  was  getting  low,  the  old  man 
ordered  more  from  Hintzen.  He  recalled  the  severity 
of  New  England  winters,  and  talked  of  the  friends  of 
his  youth.  He  began  to  plan  a  trip  East  in  the  coming 
summer,  directed  John  Woolsey  to  inquire  as  to  the 
expense  of  such  a  trip,  and  proposed  to  employ  him 
as  a  traveling  companion.  And  feeling  the  need  of 
some  money,  he  bade  Mrs.  Sherwood  write  a  letter 
for  him  to  Francis,  signing  it  with  his  mark. 

For  some  unaccountable  reason  Francis  made  no 
answer,  and  the  old  man  seemed  much  disturbed. 
Other  letters  were  dispatched.  Still  no  answer.  After 
long  waiting  a  letter  in  a  feminine  hand,  postmarked 
"  San  Francisco,"  and  addressed  to  "  Rob't  Palmer, 
Moore's  Flat,"  found  its  way  through  the  snow-drifts 
to  Sherwood's  ranch.  It  was  from  Harriet  Somers. 
But  no  letter  came  from  Francis. 


THREE  GRAVES  BY  THE  MIDDLE  YUBA     107 

Finally  Sherwood  suggested  a  registered  letter.  In 
a  few  days  a  receipt  came  back,  followed  by  a  letter 
in  which  Francis  explained  that  he  had  just  returned 
from  a  trip  to  Honolulu  for  his  health,  and  that  he 
hoped  when  he  was  better  to  go  up  into  the  mountains 
to  see  Mr.  Palmer. 

But  the  old  man's  strength  was  failing,  and  worry 
over  Francis  had  resulted  in  another  paralytic  shock. 
Dr.  Mason  was  summoned,  and  made  his  way  into 
the  canon  on  skis.  He  found  the  patient  in  bad  con 
dition,  suffering  from  miner's  paralysis  in  its  worst 
form.  Still,  the  old  man  rallied,  affixed  his  mark  in 
lieu  of  signature  to  a  letter  ordering  medicines  and 
other  necessaries  from  Hintzen,  and  forbade  the 
writing  of  alarming  letters  to  his  relatives.  He  hoped 
to  weather  the  storm  again  as  he  had  done  under  Dr. 
Lefevre's  treatment. 

But  patient  and  nurses  had  their  premonitions. 
He  would  call  out  in  distress,  "  Mrs.  Sherwood, 
please  help  my  hand,"  and  she,  taking  the  stiffened 
fingers  in  hers,  would  soothe  him  so.  He  came  more 
and  more  to  depend  upon  her.  Told  her  he  trusted 
she  would  do  whatever  was  needful;  and,  sure  sign 
of  the  coming  end,  spoke  of  his  relatives  in  the  East. 
Save  for  the  astronomer  nephew,  he  had  seen  none  of 
them  for  more  than  thirty  years;  but  his  heart  went 
out  in  tenderness  towards  them.  He  spoke  of  his 
brothers  and  sisters  and  their  promising  children. 
Weeping,  he  told  of  his  beloved  mother,  who  died 
when  he  was  a  boy  of  seven  years  and  left  him 
heart-broken. 

He  talked  about  making  legal  provision  for  pet 


108  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

cat  and  dog,  which  did  not  forsake  him  in  his  weak 
ness.  Mrs.  Sherwood,  remarking  upon  such  ex 
travagance,  asked: 

"  You  have  considerable  means,  Mr.  Palmer?  " 
And  he,  grown  less  secretive  under  her  patient  nurs 
ing,  replied: 

"  Why,  yes,  I  have  considerable  money." 

The  days  went  by,  and  he  got  no  better.  But  his 
mind  was  clear;  and  he  resolved  before  it  was  too 
late  to  reward  his  benefactors.  So  a  justice  of  the 
peace  was  summoned,  and  a  deed  of  the  old  man's 
claim  on  Fillmore  Hill  was  drawn  up,  making  the 
property  over  to  the  Woolsey  brothers.  Without 
hesitation  he  described  his  boundaries  in  legal  fash 
ion;  and  he  signed  the  deed  with  his  mark,  before 
witnesses.  Furthermore,  he  told  the  boys  where  they 
would  be  likely  to  find  rich  gravel;  and  they  after 
ward  had  cause  to  praise  the  old  man's  judgment. 

He  became  as  gentle  as  a  woman.  Indeed,  Mrs. 
Sherwood,  who  had  hung  up  some  of  his  family  por 
traits  about  his  bed,  remarked  that  in  his  sickness  he 
very  much  resembled  the  astronomer's  mother,  his 
sister.  He  comforted  his  friends,  and  told  them  his 
wishes  in  case  he  was  "  caught  in  a  worse  snap,"  as 
he  put  it. 

About  this  time  he  was  stricken  with  blindness. 
Mrs.  Sherwood  was  much  affected.  She  took  down 
her  Bible  and  read  to  him.  And  she  read  the  beauti 
ful  litanies  of  the  Episcopal  prayer-book.  With  her 
boys  she  knelt  in  prayer  by  his  bedside.  The  blind 
eyes  moistened;  for  the  strong  man's  heart  and  brain 
still  served  him  well. 


THREE  GRAVES  BY  THE  MIDDLE  YUBA     109 

Only  a  few  days  before  the  end,  when  the  whole 
body  was  apparently  paralyzed,  Dr.  Mason  inquired 
if  there  was  any  business  which  he  wished  attended 
to,  and  Robert  Palmer  replied: 

"  My  affairs  are  settled;  and,  Doctor,  you  will  be 
paid  for  your  services." 

The  last  day  of  April  had  arrived;  but  the  snow 
banks  were  still  deep  in  the  canon.  Nothing  further 
had  been  heard  from  Henry  Francis,  but  the  old 
man  at  last  seemed  reconciled.  Perhaps  Francis  was 
not  well  enough  to  come  through  the  snow.  It  was 
Sunday,  and  at  midnight  came  the  fatal  stroke.  He 
did  not  regain  consciousness,  and  died  peacefully  on 
Tuesday  afternoon,  May  2,  1882. 

Then  strange  things  happened.  Hintzen,  a  large, 
heavy  man,  unused  to  exercise,  appeared  on  snow- 
shoes  at  Sherwood's  house  and  asked  if  Mr.  Palmer 
had  said  anything  about  his  property.  No!  And 
though  the  dead  man  lay  within,  he  turned  away  and 
immediately  put  back  to  Forest  City.  Henry  Francis 
was  notified.  But  Henry  Francis  did  not  make  his 
appearance.  And  the  snow  drifts  being  deep,  Robert 
Palmer  was  buried  by  the  side  of  Scotty,  like  a 
pauper. 

No,  not  like  a  pauper;  for  there  was  still  twenty- 
nine  dollars  standing  to  his  credit  at  Hintzen's. 
And  this  sum  defrayed  his  funeral  expenses.  Out  of 
rough  planks,  lying  about  to  mend  sluices,  the  Wool- 
sey  boys  framed  a  coffin,  for  which  they  procured 
handles  at  a  neighboring  village.  And  Mrs.  Sher 
wood,  faithful  nurse  and  spiritual  adviser,  laid  the 
old  man  out  in  his  best  clothes.  The  rugged  face 


110  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

showed  no  look  of  annoyance.  After  thirty-three 
years  of  honest  striving  the  old  Forty-niner  slept  the 
sleep  of  the  just. 

The  doctor's  bill  remained  unpaid,  a  circumstance 
which  would  have  annoyed  Robert  Palmer  exceed 
ingly,  were  he  further  concerned  with  the  affairs  of 
this  world.  It  would  appear  that  Henry  Francis 
deemed  it  good  policy  to  assume  no  obligations.  So 
for  thirty-three  years  that  honest  debt  remained  un 
paid;  while  in  the  meantime  Francis,  Hintzen  and 
Haggerty  became  wealthy,  lost  their  money,  and 
passed  on  to  their  reward.  The  doctor,  long  since  re 
moved  from  North  Bloomfield,  thieves,  and  mur 
derers,  was  finally  paid  by  Palmers  of  a  later  gen 
eration. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT 

When  news  of  Robert  Palmer's  death  reached  his 
relatives,  pity  for  his  lonesome  life  of  self-denial  was 
swallowed  up  by  pleasant  anticipations.  But  weeks 
and  months  passed  by  with  no  word  of  encourage 
ment  from  his  executors.  Finally,  Mrs.  Sherwood, 
thinking  the  heirs  were  being  defrauded,  wrote  East 
urging  that  some  member  of  the  Palmer  family  visit 
California.  So  the  astronomer  nephew,  at  consider 
able  expense  to  himself,  was  delegated  to  cross  the 
continent.  At  the  end  of  August  he  found  himself  in 
the  Sierras  once  more.  On  horse-back  he  visited 
Sherwood's  ranch,  and  his  uncle's  house  on  Fillmore 
Hill,  ran  the  gauntlet  of  rogues  at  Alleghany,  and 
passed  on  over  the  mountains  to  Forest  City  and 
Downieville.  It  was  a  glorious  outing,  in  spite  of  the 
dust.  How  brightly  the  stars  shone  down  on  the 
Sierras!  But  the  further  he  investigated  the  deeper 
grew  the  mystery.  Dr.  Mason  told  the  story  of  the 
sixty  thousand  dollars  loaned  by  Robert  Palmer  to 
the  water  company.  But  the  three  California  execu 
tors,  reputed  honest  men,  assured  the  nephew  there 
was  no  money  to  be  found.  Bankers  in  Sacramento 
and  San  Francisco  were  polite  but  disappointing. 
All  the  astronomer  brought  home  was  Mat  Bailey's 
story  of  the  murder  of  Cummins,  a  copy  of  Robert 


112  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

Palmer's  will  procured  at  Downieville,  and  a  prob 
lem  which  defied  his  higher  mathematics.  "  Set  a 
thief  to  catch  a  thief; "  the  astronomer  was  an 
honest  man. 

A  few  months  after  his  return  from  California,  the 
tangled  web  of  my  yarn  began  to  unravel.  Mat 
Bailey  had  reported  that  nothing  had  been  heard  of 
the  highwaymen  "  from  that  day  to  this."  But  John 
Keeler's  work  had  not  been  done  in  vain.  O'Leary 
of  You  Bet,  the  Nevada  City  jail-bird,  had  been  duly 
impressed  with  the  handsome  reward  offered  for  the 
apprehension  of  the  murderers.  So  every  time  he 
met  an  old  acquaintance  he  talked  about  the  murder 
of  Will  Cummins.  It  was  a  simple  method  of  pro 
cedure,  and  it  did  not  prove  immediately  successful. 
As  it  was  about  as  easy  to  be  a  vagabond  in  one  lo 
cality  as  in  another,  he  drifted  from  place  to  place  — 
first  to  Sacramento,  then  to  San  Francisco,  then  over 
the  Sierras  to  the  mining  camps  of  Nevada,  then 
through  Utah  and  Wyoming,  till  at  last  he  found 
himself  in  jail  in  St.  Louis. 

There,  three  years  after  the  murder,  he  found  his 
old  pal  J.  C.  P.  Collins  —  but  how  changed!  Could 
that  coarse  and  bloated  countenance  belong  to  the 
fastidious  and  pleasure-loving  Collins? 

*  Well,  Collins,  I  hardly  knew  you.  How  does 
the  grub  here  compare  with  what  we  used  to  get  at 
Carter's  boarding-house?  "  O'Leary  referred  to  the 
jail  at  Nevada  City. 

"  This  must  be  your  first  week  in  St.  Louis,"  re 
plied  Collins,  "  if  you  haven't  put  up  at  this  hotel 
before.  Been  caught  stealing  again,  I  suppose?  " 


WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT 

"  That's  me.  Only  the  matter  of  a  lady's  purse  that 
was  of  no  use  to  her." 

"  Well,  women  are  the  cause  of  all  my  trouble. 
They  drag  a  man  down  worse  than  drink.  They  are 
a  bad  lot,  are  women." 

"  Why,  you're  a  regular  preacher,  ain't  you?  You 
used  to  be  a  ladies'  man." 

"  That  was  in  California." 

"How's  the  wild  and  woolly?"  asked  Collins,  pres 
ently,  looking  his  old  pal  over  contemptuously. 

"  Oh,  I  know  I  ain't  stylish  like  you  Eastern  dudes. 
I'm  a  honest  miner,  I  am.  And  I  don't  wear  boiled 
shirts  like  you." 

"You're  honest,  all  right.  We'll  leave  that  to 
Sheriff  Carter.  Remember  how  he  caught  you  steal 
ing  that  Chinaman's  dust?  I  can  see  that  China 
man's  sign  now:  *  Heekee  &  Co.,  Gold  Dust  Bought.' 
By  the  way,  what's  become  of  my  old  flame  back 
there?  " 

"  Oh,  a  lady?  I  don't  remember  no  ladies  that  was 
acquainted  with  gents  like  us." 

"  I  don't  reckon  you  know  the  girl  I  mean.  She 
wasn't  in  your  class,  that's  a  fact." 

"  Maybe  I  can  tell  you  if  you'll  just  say  her  name." 

"  Well,  I'm  inquiring  after  Miss  Mamie  Slocum, 
the  sweetest  little  girl  in  Nevada  City." 

"  You're  joking,  sure.  That  girl  never  had  any 
use  for  the  likes  of  you.  Mat  Bailey  would  knock 
your  head  off  if  he  heard  you  breathe  her  name." 

"  Insult  me  as  much  as  you  like.  *  No  fighting  '  is 
the  rules  of  this  hotel.  I  asked  you,  how  is  that  little 
girl?  Sweet  on  Mat  Bailey,  is  she?  Well,  I'm  glad 
of  it." 


114  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

"  Yes;  she  and  Mat  have  been  good  friends  ever 
since  Will  Cummins  was  killed." 

"So?   How's  that?" 

"  Why,  you  know  she  came  down  on  the  stage  that 
day,  and  saw  it  all.  Some  say  she  knew  the  robbers 
and  helped  them  find  Cummins'  bullion.  I  guess 
Mat  was  in  the  deal,  too.  Anyhow,  she  and  Mat  have 
been  good  friends  ever  since,  as  I  tell  you." 

"  Now  look  here,  O'Leary,  you're  dead  wrong. 
That  girl  is  as  innocent  as  you  are." 

"  Sure!  The  judge  just  sent  me  up  for  snatching 
a  purse,  you  know." 

"  I  tell  you  that  girl  knew  nothing  about  the 
hold-up." 

"  It  must  have  happened  after  you  left  California, 
or  you  wouldn't  be  so  sure.  I'll  tell  you  about  it. 
Stage  comes  down  from  Moore's  Flat.  Mamie  Slo- 
cum  talks  and  laughs  with  Will  Cummins.  Sees 
where  he  stows  his  old  leather  grip.  Sings  out  to  the 
robbers,  '  That's  Mr.  Cummins'  valise  under  the 
seat  there.' ' 

"  That's  a  lie,  and  you  are  a  fool  to  believe  it!  " 

"  I'm  telling  you  the  facts." 

"  The  facts !  Why,  man,  wasn't  I  there?  And  don't 
I  know  just  what  happened?  " 

Astonished  at  this  outburst,  O'Leary  looked  hard 
at  Collins.  There  was  no  mistaking  his  earnestness; 
and  he  only  leered  at  the  other's  astonishment. 
O'Leary  was  discreet  enough  to  say  no  more;  and 
Collins  seemed  to  think  his  secret  safe  enough  in  the 
keeping  of  an  old  pal  two  thousand  miles  from  the 
scene  of  the  murder.  But  that  very  night  O'Leary 
telegraphed  to  Sheriff  Carter  of  Nevada  City: 


WHEN  THIEVES  FALL  OUT  115 

"  Man  who  killed  Cummins  in  jail  here.   Come  at 


once.  O'LEARY. 

John  Keeler  and  Henry  Francis  happened  to  be  at 
the  railroad  station  the  next  morning,  when  Carter 
started  for  St.  Louis;  and  he  showed  them  the  tele- 

"  When  thieves  fall  out,"  remarked  Keeler;  and 
Francis  winced.  Was  it  because  he  foresaw  that  the 
ten  thousand  dollar  reward  would  be  claimed?  or 
was  it  for  some  other  reason?  Keeler  wondered. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

BB  OUGHT  TO  JUSTICE 

There  was  no  serious  doubt  in  Sheriff  Carter's 
mind  as  to  the  importance  of  O'Leary's  telegram.  He 
hoped  that  the  murder  of  Will  Cummins  was,  at  last, 
to  be  avenged;  and,  as  he  had  admired  and  loved 
that  chivalrous  man,  he  resolved  to  use  every  means 
injris  power  to  bring  the  murderers  to  justice.  But 
he  realized  what  a  difficult  task  it  would  be  to  get 
them  hanged. 

There  was  a  strong  sentiment  in  California  against 
capital  punishment.  There  seemed  to  be  little  ob 
jection  to  murder  committed  by  private  citizens,  but 
people  raised  their  hands  in  horror  at  what  they  were 
pleased  to  call  judicial  murder.  What  right  has  the 
State  to  take  so  precious  a  thing  as  human  life,  even 
though  the  life  be  that  of  a  hardened  criminal? 
Carter  was  sick  at  heart.  He  had  watched  the  most 
depraved  characters,  fed  and  clothed  and  guarded  at 
the  public  expense,  spend  their  days  in  shame  and 
utter  uselessness.  It  would  have  been  a  mercy  to 
have  terminated  their  existence;  and  it  would  have 
instilled  respect  for  law  in  the  minds  of  other  crim 
inals. 

But  the  immediate  problem  of  Sheriff  Carter,  as  it 
is  the  immediate  concern  of  this  story,  was  to  cap 
ture  the  murderers.  Carter  went  armed  with  proper 


BROUGHT  TO  JUSTICE  117 

legal  documents,  handcuffs,  and  a  pair  of  derringers 
—  for  the  sheriff  of  Nevada  County  could  shoot 
straight  simultaneously  with  both  hands.  Two  faith 
ful  deputies  accompanied  their  chief,  and  all  three 
were  well  supplied  with  the  sinews  of  war  in  gold  and 
bank-notes. 

Arrived  at  St.  Louis  Carter  immediately  got  in 
touch  with  O'Leary,  and  cautioned  him  not  to 
alarm  Collins,  for  proper  circumspection  might  lead 
to  the  capture  of  both  murderers.  Showing  his  cre 
dentials  to  the  proper  authorities,  he  took  them  into 
his  confidence,  and  thus  made  sure  that  Collins  would 
not  be  discharged  from  jail  without  his  knowledge. 
Then  he  and  his  deputies  retired  to  their  hotel  for 
rest,  refreshment,  and  poker. 

In  less  than  three  days  the  chief  of  police  showed 
him  a  letter  written  by  Collins  to  Thorn.  The  mis 
sive  ran: 

"  dear  Thorn,  alias  Darcy, 

don't  let  your  old  pal  bother  you  eny  I  suppose  you 
are  having  a  revival  in  your  church  about  this  time 
and  converting  a  great  many  sinners,  give  my  kind 
regards  to  the  widow  Brown,  and  I  hope  she  will 
marry  you  soon.  I  expect  to  leave  this  hotel  in  ten 
days,  so  will  need  $50.  send  post  office  order,  St. 
Louis,  general  delivery. 

Your  old  partner, 

J.  C.  P.  COLLINS." 

It  was  evidently  a  blackmailing  letter.  The  sheriff 
remembered  Darcy  of  old,  and  the  chances  seemed 
good  that  Thorn  alias  Darcy  was  the  other  highway- 


118  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

man.  So,  taking  O'Leary  along  to  assist  in  the  iden 
tification,  he  set  out  for  Union  City  to  deliver  Col 
lins'  letter  in  person.  No  doubt  this  Thorn  was  a 
harder  man  to  catch  than  Collins.  He  had  had 
sense  enough  to  change  his  name  and  to  join  a  church. 
So  Carter  approached  Union  City  rather  cautiously, 
leaving  O'Leary  with  one  of  his  deputies  in  Chicago 
with  orders  to  wait  for  a  telegram.  Accompanied  by 
the  other  deputy  he  arrived  at  Union  City  rather  late 
at  night,  to  avoid  publicity. 

There  he  learned  that  Thorn  had  been  in  town 
nearly  three  years.  That  he  was  engaged  in  the 
lumber  business,  was  prosperous,  highly  respected 
and  was  prominent  in  the  leading  church  of  the  town. 
He  was  away  on  business  in  Chicago  at  the  time, 
but  was  expected  to  return  in  a  week  or  two,  as  it  was 
rumored  that  he  was  soon  to  marry. 

The  sheriff's  disappointment  was  much  relieved  by 
the  receipt  of  a  telegram  the  next  morning: 

"  We  have  got  Darcy  corralled  here.  Come  at 
once. 

PAT  O'LEARY." 

"  Just  as  well  that  we  brought  O'Leary  along," 
remarked  Carter  to  his  deputy.  "  You  stay  on 
guard  here  till  you  hear  from  me." 

In  Chicago  the  sheriff  found  that  his  deputy  had 
promptly  arrested  Darcy  on  O'Leary's  identification, 
and  had  had  the  man  locked  up.  But  on  visiting  the 
jail,  Carter  was  considerably  in  doubt  if  he  had  ever 
seen  the  prisoner  before.  The  Darcy  he  remembered 
was  smooth  shaven,  bronzed  through  exposure  to  the 


BROUGHT  TO  JUSTICE  119 

California  sun,  rough  and  rather  desperate  in  appear 
ance.  This  man  wore  a  beard,  was  well  dressed, 
rather  pale  from  confinement  in  his  office,  and  of 
sanctimonious  countenance. 

"But  that's  Darcy,  all  right,"  O'Leary  assured 
him.  "  Same  eyes,  and  same  mole  on  his  neck. 
Just  read  him  that  letter  from  Collins,  Mr.  Carter." 

At  the  name  of  Collins  the  prisoner  winced  visibly. 
For  some  time  he  had  realized  that  Collins  might  be 
tray  him;  and  he  had  thought  seriously  of  ending 
that  scoundrel's  career. 

Carter  followed  up  the  advantage  quickly. 

"  I  think  this  is  Mr.  Thorn  of  Union  City?  "  he 
inquired  politely. 

"  That's  my  name,"  said  the  man,  "  and  I  live  in 
Union  City,  as  I  told  the  officer." 

"  I've  just  come  from  Union  City,"  replied  Carter 
quietly,  "  and  happen  to  know  that  you  are  a  re 
spected  citizen  of  that  place.  Don't  suppose  you 
ever  heard  of  J.  C.  P.  Collins  of  Nevada  County, 
California?  " 

"  I  was  a  miner  in  California  several  years,  but  I 
don't  remember  anybody  by  the  name  of  Collins." 

"  It's  singular  then  that  Collins  should  call  you  his 
old  pal  and  address  you  as  *  Dear  Thorn  alias  Darcy.' ' 
And  Carter  presented  Collins'  letter. 

"You're  wanted,  Thorn,  alias  Darcy,  for  the  mur 
der  of  William  F.  Cummins."  The  sheriff  looked  at 
the  prisoner  so  sternly  that  the  man  wilted.  "  Col 
lins  has  owned  up,  and  you  might  as  well  do  the 


same." 


O  God!  "  groaned  the  man,  "  my  sin  has  found 


120  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

me  out.  I  killed  Cummins  with  my  own  hand;  and 
I  am  ready  to  pay  the  penalty." 

His  religion  had  not  been  all  humbug,  by  any 
means;  and  now  he  asked  permission  to  visit  Union 
City  to  make  public  confession  of  the  murder.  But 
Carter  had  left  Collins  in  jail  at  St.  Louis,  and  saw 
no  reason  to  delay  the  arrest  of  that  scoundrel  in 
order  to  gratify  the  wishes  of  a  confessed  murderer. 
So  he  proceeded  to  St.  Louis  at  once,  arrested  Collins, 
who  seemed  rather  shocked  and  grieved  to  meet  his 
old  friend  the  sheriff  once  more;  and  hurried  the 
prisoners  back  to  California. 

There  was  great  excitement  in  the  gold  fields,  you 
may  be  sure,  when  it  was  announced  that  Will  Cum 
mins'  murderers  were  safely  lodged  in  jail,  more 
than  three  years  after  the  crime.  Surely,  California 
was  becoming  civilized,  and  at  last  Nevada  County 
was  actually  to  try  a  couple  of  men  for  murder. 


CHAPTER  XVHI 

THE  END  OF  J.  C.  P.  COLLINS 

At  Nevada  City,  with  its  pleasant  homes  scattered 
on  the  hills  either  side  of  the  deep  gorge  of  Deer 
Creek,  the  traveler  lingers  awhile  to  drink  in  the 
romance  of  the  gold  fields.  Roses  and  poppies  that 
bloom  profusely  in  the  front  yards  are  "  emblems  of 
deeds  that  are  done  in  their  clime."  The  very  soil, 
like  the  flowers  that  spring  therefrom,  suggests  gold 
and  the  red  blood  so  freely  shed  for  it.  Here  and 
there  are  eloquent,  though  silent,  reminders  of  the 
exciting  days  of  placer  mining  and  highway  robbery, 
when  Wells  Fargo  and  Company  brought  treasure 
out  of  the  mountains  guarded  by  armed  men. 

At  the  court-house  Nevada  County  is  advertised 
as  the  banner  gold  county  of  California,  with  a  total 
output  of  $300,000,000;  a  yellow  block  on  exhibition 
represents  the  bullion  taken  from  the  Malakoff  Mine 
in  one  month,  and  valued  at  $114,289.  In  a  show 
case  at  the  Citizens'  Bank  are  exhibited  four  of  the 
buckshot  which  killed  T.  H.  Girard  on  October  31, 
1887.  Also,  a  bit  of  hemp  rope  with  a  tag,  on 
which  is  written: 

"  The  end  of  J.  C.  P.  Collins 

Feb.  1,  1884 
Compliments  of  Sheriff  Carter." 


FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

In  vain  one  may  search  for  a  similar  reminder  of 
the  highwayman  Darcy,  the  actual  murderer  of  Will 
Cummins.  But  at  the  scene  of  the  murder,  the  stage- 
driver  of  the  present  generation  tells  his  passengers 
that  Darcy  was  paroled  several  years  ago,  after 
spending  thirty  years  in  prison.  He  may  add  that 
Darcy,  the  ex-convict,  is  an  inert  and  lifeless  crea 
ture,  married  to  a  paroled  woman  as  lifeless  as  him 
self. 

Darcy's  friends  in  Union  City  would  not  have  it 
appear  that  their  model  citizen  was  a  murderer. 
They  protested  stoutly,  and  in  the  end  the  tax-payers 
for  thirty  years  were  burdened  with  the  care  and  keep 
of  the  criminal. 

As  it  has  already  been  remarked,  murders  in 
Nevada  County  were  common  enough;  but  a  murder 
trial  was  almost  unheard  of. 

The  State  tried  Collins  first.  He  had  no  friends, 
except  of  the  baser  sort;  and  his  conviction  might 
make  it  easier  to  convict  Darcy.  Mat  Bailey  and 
Mamie  Slocum  were  important  witnesses  for  the 
State;  and  Collins  himself,  poor  debauchee  though 
he  was,  was  man  enough  to  clear  Mamie  of  all  sus 
picion.  She  freely  told  of  her  conversation  with  him 
when  he  had  recommended  the  gallantry  of  gentle 
men  of  the  road.  And  she  admitted  that  she  had 
always  been  haunted  by  the  suspicion  that  the  high 
wayman  with  whom  Cummins  had  grappled  might 
have  been  Collins,  who  had  so  strangely  disappeared 
after  the  robbery.  No;  she  could  not  identify  him 
as  the  man  who  asked  about  Cummins'  valise.  She 
was  not  sure  about  his  voice.  She  was  too  much 
frightened  to  be  sure  of  anything. 


THE  END  OF  J.  C.  P.  COLLINS 

As  Collins  seemed  less  interested  in  saving  his  own 
worthless  life  than  in  establishing  the  innocence  of 
Mamie  Slocum,  he  was  promptly  convicted.  The 
judge  sentenced  him  to  be  hanged  on  Friday,  Feb. 
1,  1884. 

Sheriff  Carter  could  not  see  why,  if  Collins  was 
guilty,  Darcy  was  not.  But  good  souls  from  Union 
City  showed  how  exemplary  had  been  the  life  of 
their  brother  since  he  came  among  them,  and  the 
lawyer  whom  these  good  people  employed  pointed 
out  the  shame  and  disgrace  that  would  be  suffered 
by  a  worthy  family  if  one  bearing  the  name  of  Darcy 
should  die  upon  the  scaffold.  It  is  strange  that  in 
such  cases  the  lawyers  on  the  other  side  do  not  show 
that  the  shame  and  disgrace  come  with  the  commis 
sion  of  the  crime,  and  that  honest  punishment  en 
dured  for  the  same  is  the  one  means  left  the  criminal 
to  atone  for  the  injury  he  has  done  the  good  name  of 
his  family. 

There  was  no  doubt  as  to  Darcy 's  guilt;  and  he 
was  man  enough  to  have  paid  the  extreme  penalty 
willingly.  For  thirty  years  he  lived  the  monotonous 
round  of  prison  life,  becoming  more  and  more  like  a 
dumb  animal,  and  paroled  at  last  in  his  old  age  little 
better  than  an  automaton  —  the  qualities  of  daring, 
thrift,  and  religious  enthusiasm  long  since  dead  and 
gone. 

Throughout  the  trial  of  both  men,  Henry  Francis 
was  an  interested  spectator.  The  court-room  seemed 
to  have  a  fascination  for  him,  although  he  was  now  a 
rich  man  with  important  demands  upon  his  time.  It 
was  whispered  about  that  the  Pennsylvanians  had 


124  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

spent  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  hunting  the  crim 
inals  down;  and  some  people  were  fanciful  enough 
to  see  in  Henry  Francis  the  highwaymen's  Nemesis. 
He  made  a  very  dignified  Nemesis  indeed.  He  looked 
grave  and  thoughtful,  and  his  newly  acquired  wealth 
lent  dignity  to  his  refined  countenance. 

But  it  occurred  to  John  Keeler  that  somehow  it 
appeared  as  if  Francis  imagined  himself  sitting  at  his 
own  trial.  He  seemed  to  show  an  almost  eager  inter 
est  in  the  subterfuges  and  the  raising  of  legal  dust  by 
means  of  which  counsel  for  the  defense  endeavored 
to  blind  the  eyes  of  the  jurors.  Keeler  hardly  dared 
to  let  his  fancy  run  on  to  logical  conclusions.  It 
seemed  too  much  like  condemning  a  man  without 
giving  him  a  trial.  Yet  he  could  not  help  being 
haunted  by  the  thought  that  some  thieves  are  too 
shrewd  to  assume  the  risks  of  highway  robbery.  In 
his  own  mind  this  thought  constituted  the  one  valid 
argument  against  capital  punishment.  For  if  com 
mon  scoundrels  are  to  be  executed  what  severer 
punishment  is  left  for  the  more  crafty  villain?  But 
he  could  see  that  a  sensitive  nature  like  that  of  Fran 
cis  was  capable  of  infinite  suffering;  and  he  thought 
of  the  words  of  Scripture,  "  Verily  they  have  their 
reward." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  HOME-COMING  OF  ANOTHER  DEAD  MAN 

"  The  mills  of  the  gods  grind  slowly,  but  they 
grind  exceeding  small." 

For  example,  there  was  Robert  Palmer,  who  after 
thirty  years  spent  in  the  gold  fields  had  accumulated 
considerable  treasure.  But  choosing  to  dig  for  gold 
and  to  live  among  adventurers,  thieves,  and  specu 
lators,  he  had  come  to  distrust  human  nature.  He 
became  so  secretive  that  even  at  the  approach  of 
death,  when  the  kindly  French  doctor  had  given  him 
fair  warning,  he  would  confide  in  only  one  man. 
Verily,  he  had  his  reward. 

Incidentally,  the  three  Californians  whom  he  had 
named  as  his  executors  prospered.  They  may  not  all 
be  included  among  the  forty-one  thieves  of  this  story, 
but  it  may  not  seem  unreasonable  to  suppose  that 
Henry  Francis  made  it  worth  while  for  Hintzen  and 
Haggerty  to  keep  quiet.  The  point  is  that  all  three 
executors  prospered  —  and  then  died  penniless. 

Hintzen  made  so  much  money  over  at  Forest  City 
that  he  left  for  Arizona,  where  he  invested  in  copper, 
and  lost  everything  he  had.  Haggerty,  who  re 
mained  in  his  store  at  Moore's  Flat,  where  he  had 
made  money  rapidly,  speculated  and  lost  all,  includ 
ing  the  savings  of  a  few  poor  people  who  had  trusted 
him.  Henry  Francis  speculated  in  the  stock  of  the 


126  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

famous  Comstock  mine,  in  the  adjoining  State  of 
Nevada,  lost  the  fortune  he  had  wrongfully  acquired, 
and  died  broken-hearted.  It  was  only  six  years  after 
Palmer's  death  that  he  collapsed,  and  was  taken 
home  to  Reedsville,  Pennsylvania. 

Here,  ostensibly  the  victim  of  tuberculosis,  he  lin 
gered  a  year  to  taste  the  bitterness  of  poverty  and 
wretchedness.  Then  he  died,  and  suffered  the  usual 
eulogy  poured  out  by  country  ministers. 

A  charitable  author  must  admit  the  virtues  of  his 
"  heavy- villain."  The  sun  rises  upon  the  evil  and  the 
good,  and  rain  descends  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust, 
for  the  simple  reason,  no  doubt,  that  no  other  arrange 
ment  would  be  possible,  inasmuch  as  there  are  no 
people  who  are  entirely  good  and  none  who  are 
wholly  bad.  In  every  man  the  forces  of  good  and 
evil  are  at  war. 

If  Henry  Francis  yielded  to  temptation  there  were 
extenuating  circumstances.  In  the  first  place,  Rob 
ert  Palmer's  will  distinctly  stated  that  everything 
was  left  to  the  judgment  of  the  executors.  They 
were  to  stand  firm  and  resolute  on  their  own  judg 
ment  "  and  take  time  to  settle  the  concern  whether 
it  need  one  year  or  twenty  years." 

Possibly  Francis  reasoned  that  investing  the  old 
man's  money  in  a  certain  way  would,  within  a  very 
few  years,  double  the  estate,  and  thus  render  a 
service  to  the  heirs.  And  if  at  the  end  of  three 
or  four  years  the  event  had  proved  the  soundness 
of  his  judgment,  was  it  wrong  to  exercise  that  judg 
ment  in  further  ventures?  The  will  gave  him  twenty 
years.  Weren't  the  executors  acting  "  at  all  times 


HOME-COMING   OF   ANOTHER   DEAD    MAN      127 

and  under  all  circumstances  to  the  best  of  their 
judgment?  "  If  conscience  demurred  that  Hintzen 
and  Haggerty  were  left  in  the  dark,  so  that  "  their 
judgment  "  had  come  to  mean  simply  the  judgment 
of  Henry  Francis,  had  he  not  proved  that  judgment 
good? 

He  knew  that  when  he  had  given  the  heirs  to 
understand  that  there  was  no  property,  he  had  pre 
varicated.  But  had  he  not  heard  their  pleas  with 
patience,  just  as  the  old  man  had  directed?  And  if 
Robert  Palmer's  estate  were  settled  right  then,  at 
the  end  of  four  years,  would  the  heirs  complain  of 
circumstances  which  had  doubled  their  inheritance? 
No  doubt  conscience  inquired  if  Francis  was  think 
ing  of  postponing  settlement  indefinitely.  And  no 
doubt  prudence  suggested  a  settlement  now  when 
all  was  going  well.  But  once  let  the  estate  slip  from 
his  control,  and  he  would  become  a  comparatively 
poor  man;  while  the  twenty-nine  heirs  might  squan 
der  their  money  foolishly. 

While  he  was  debating  the  question,  it  was  only 
proper  to  keep  the  money  well  invested.  And  if  at 
the  end  of  the  fifth  year  his  securities  had  shrunken 
seriously  in  value,  it  was  natural  to  wait  another 
year  for  values  to  become  normal.  When  the  crash 
came,  the  injury  to  his  vanity  hurt  him  more  than 
his  wounded  conscience;  that  he  had  learned  to 
soothe,  but  his  pride  had  never  before  been  humbled. 
And  so  it  was  said  that  Henry  Francis  died  of  a 
broken  heart. 

His  sister  Mary,  who  nine  years  before  had 
brought  back  to  Pennsylvania  the  corpse  of  the  mur- 


128  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

dered  Cummins,  was  now  summoned  to  carry  an 
other  dead  man  home.  True,  he  lived  a  year  to  con 
template  the  ruin  of  fortune  and  honor,  but  he  was 
mortally  wounded.  Most  pathetic  of  all,  he  was  re 
solved  to  suffer  in  silence.  Brothers  and  sisters 
should  not  share  in  his  disgrace.  He  had  gambled  and 
lost.  But  he  would  not  tell  them  that  he  had  gam 
bled  with  his  honor. 

There  is  still  balm  in  Gilead,  even  for  a  sinner! 
It  was  good  to  feel  the  touch  of  his  sister's  hand,  to 
taste  the  delicacies  that  only  she  could  prepare.  The 
last  long  journey  over  the  plains,  at  the  end  of  which 
he  would  find  rest  on  the  hillside  where  Will  Cum 
mins  slept,  was  almost  as  peaceful  as  his.  He  had 
renounced  the  world  of  thieves  and  gamblers,  and 
was  going  home. 

Arrived  in  his  native  valley,  he  marvelled  at  its 
beauty.  Why  had  he  ever  left  it,  to  risk  life  and  honor 
in  the  pursuit  of  riches?  Man's  needs  are  so  simple! 
How  easily  he  might  have  thriven  among  such  kindly 
neighbors!  None  of  them  could  be  called  rich,  but 
they  had  an  abundance  of  this  world's  goods,  with 
something  to  spare  for  him,  the  returned  prodigal. 
What  does  it  profit  a  man  to  gain  the  wealth  of  Cali 
fornia  and  lose  his  own  soul?  Had  he  lost  his  soul, 
then?  He  had  proved  unfaithful  to  his  friend.  Or 
had  he  been  simply  unfortunate?  Ah,  well !  he  hardly 
knew.  He  was  eager  to  see  Robert  Palmer  again 
in  the  world  to  which  he  was  hastening.  Then  he 
would  confess  all,  and  be  forgiven.  For  Robert 
Palmer  had  loved  him  like  a  son.  Yes,  that  was  what 
made  the  cup  so  bitter! 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  BRIDAL  VEIL 

"  Where  ancient  forests  widely  spread. 
Where  bends  the  cataract's  ocean  fall, 
On  the  lone  mountain's  silent  head, 
There  are  Thy  temples,  Lord  of  All!  " 

ANDREWS  NORTON. 

As  the  trial  and  execution  of  J.  C.  P.  Collins  were 
the  last  acts  in  his  worthless  career,  so  they  were  the 
last  but  one  in  the  courtship  of  Mat  Bailey  and 
Mamie  Slocum.  These  comparatively  young  people 
were  married  soon  afterward.  They  were  married 
and  did  not  live  happily  ever  after;  but  they  cer 
tainly  enjoyed  greater  happiness  than  that  which  fell 
to  the  lot  of  their  friends,  John  Keeler  and  Dr. 
Mason  only  excepted. 

During  a  long  life  John  Keeler  reaped  the  reward 
of  sterling  integrity.  To  the  end  of  his  days  he  re 
mained  a  poor  man.  But  no  one  in  all  Nevada 
County  was  more  highly  respected.  Not  that  he  was 
much  interested  in  what  other  people  thought  of 
him,  as  he  strove  simply  to  win  the  respect  of  his 
own  exacting  conscience. 

Dr.  Mason,  having  at  last  had  the  satisfaction  of 
seeing  one  murderer  brought  to  justice,  felt  that  he 
might  with  dignity  retire  from  the  gold  fields,  where 
good  Anglo-Saxon  ideas  of  law  and  order  were  be 
ginning  to  find  acceptance.  So  he  moved  his  family 


130  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

into  the  plains  at  the  foot  of  the  Sierras,  where  in 
the  town  of  Lincoln,  Placer  County,  they  enjoyed  a 
more  genial  and  happy  existence. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mat  Bailey  also  moved  away  from 
Nevada  County.  But  Mat  had  become  so  strongly 
addicted  to  stage-driving  that  he  could  not  give  it 
up  even  to  enjoy  the  continuous  society  of  his  bride. 
He  might,  for  instance,  have  become  a  florist,  and 
employed  Mamie  as  his  chief  assistant.  Instead  of 
this  he  took  her  to  what  he  considered  the  most  beau 
tiful  place  on  earth. 

He  established  his  home  in  the  meadows  of  the 
Yosemite  Valley,  where  the  clear  waters  of  the 
Merced  preserve  the  verdure  of  the  fields  the  whole 
summer  through.  In  midsummer,  the  floor  of  the 
Yosemite  Valley  is  like  an  oasis  in  the  desert.  On 
all  sides  are  rough,  dry  mountains;  and  if  you  follow 
the  river  down  to  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  it  becomes 
lost  in  a  vast  parched  plain.  But  between  its  moun 
tain  walls,  where  Mamie  lived  and  where  Mat  pur 
sued  his  vocation,  all  is  beautiful. 

From  the  mountain  height  across  the  river  thun 
dered  the  Yosemite  Fall  in  all  its  glory,  a  sight  that 
allures  travelers  from  the  uttermost  parts  of  the 
earth.  And  down  the  valley  a  ways  was  the  Bridal 
Veil,  where  Mat  and  Mamie  paused  to  worship  when 
first  they  entered  that  enchanted  valley  together. 

Their  first  drive  after  they  went  to  house-keeping 
was  to  Artist  Point.  Mamie  felt  that  she  never  had 
loved  Mat  before  as  she  did  that  day;  for  as  he  ex 
ulted  in  the  glories  of  the  valley,  with  Half  Dome  at 
the  end  and  El  Capitan  standing  in  sublime  magnifi- 


THE  BRIDAL  VEIL  131 

cence  before  them,  the  scales  fell  from  her  eyes,  and 
she  saw  in  her  stage-driver  husband  the  poet  and 
artist  that  he  really  was. 

He  was  artist  enough  not  to  attempt  to  show  his 
sweetheart  all  the  glories  of  the  Yosemite  at  once. 
He  took  the  keenest  delight  in  having  them  grow 
upon  her.  It  was  fully  two  months  before  they 
climbed  up  out  of  the  valley  to  Inspiration  Point,  re 
newing  their  acquaintance  with  familiar  scenes  and 
experiencing  more  stupendous  grandeur.  It  was  two 
years  after  they  came  into  the  valley  that  Mat  dis 
closed  the  most  tremendous  magnificence  of  all. 

For  years  after  it  fairly  took  her  breath  away  to 
think  of  it.  First  they  took  the  familiar  road  to 
Inspiration  Point,  then  made  their  way  over  the 
mountains  where  the  Glacier  Point  Road  now  runs, 
and  camped  for  the  night  in  the  highlands  of  never- 
failing  frost.  Next  morning  they  pursued  their  way 
through  the  woods  an  interminable  distance,  as  it 
seemed  to  Mamie,  until  finally  they  stood  upon  the 
brink  of  a  huge  canon,  with  a  snowy  mountain  range 
in  the  distance  beyond,  and  in  the  intervening  space, 
a  vast  panorama  of  granite  mountain  sides,  almost 
white,  —  here  and  there  covered  with  a  sparse 
growth  of  timber.  The  waters  from  these  mountain 
reaches  had  cut  a  channel  for  themselves  known  as 
Little  Yosemite  Valley,  where  pour  the  two  wonderful 
cataracts  known  as  Nevada  Falls  and  Vernal  Falls. 
Their  deep  roar  came  up  from  the  valley.  Mamie 
felt  that  she  would  be  content  to  watch  that  scene 
the  whole  day  through. 

But  Mat  took  her  on  to  Glacier  Point,  where  you 


132  FORTY-ONE  THIEVES 

look  straight  down  more  than  three  thousand  feet 
to  the  level  floor  of  the  Yosemite  Valley.  There  be 
low,  more  than  half  a  mile  below,  she  saw  her  neigh 
bors'  cottages;  and  the  thought  occurred  to  her,  as 
she  clung  to  Mat,  that  if  she  should  fall  over  the 
precipice  she  might  crash  through  the  roof  of  one  of 
these.  She  actually  saw  the  good  neighbor  who  was 
caring  for  her  own  child  during  his  mother's  absence. 
Before  the  day  of  aviators  it  seemed  strange  enough 
to  look  straight  down  from  half  a  mile  up  in  the  sky. 
Then  came  those  scenes  of  terrifying  magnificence 
when  she  followed  Mat  over  the  trail  cut  along  the 
perpendicular  walls  of  the  canon  five  miles  down  to 
the  floor  of  the  Valley.  One  who  has  not  passed  over 
that  trail  can  scarcely  conceive  of  it;  and  one  who 
has,  brings  away  a  sense  of  the  sublime  and  the 
beautiful  mingled  with  terror.  There  against  the 
blue  sky  stands  the  perpendicular  wall  of  Half  Dome, 
almost  within  arm's  reach,  seemingly,  in  that  clear 
atmosphere.  There  stand  El  Capitan  and  the  Three 
Graces.  And  there  at  every  turn  of  the  trail  pours 
the  glorious  Yosemite  Fall,  at  first  too  far  away  for 
the  ear  to  notice  its  distant  thunder.  Then  on  closer 
approach  the  faint  roar  is  heard  across  the  canon. 
The  attention  becomes  fixed  more  and  more  upon 
this  majestic  cataract,  to  set  off  which  the  wonderful 
mountain  walls  seem  to  have  been  specially  cre 
ated.  The  trail  from  Glacier  Point,  beginning  at  an 
altitude  above  the  top  of  the  fall  opposite,  reveals  it 
in  its  whole  nakedness  —  shows  its  rise  in  the  vast 
watershed  of  upland  mountain  valleys,  and  then  by 
degrees  leads  you  closer  and  closer  to  it  until,  at 
Union  Point,  its  glory  is  perfect. 


THE  BRIDAL  VEIL  133 

But  why  attempt  to  outline  the  wonders  of  that 
famous  valley? 

If  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mat  Bailey  were  not  actually 
happy  ever  after,  they  found  life  worth  living.  As 
only  people  of  humble  fortune  are  likely  to  do,  they 
lived  the  simple  life.  And  they  found  it  pleasant. 
They  realized,  as  many  people  of  humble  fortune 
do  not,  that  the  sweetest  pleasure  can  be  derived 
from  the  cheerful  performance  of  obvious  and  com 
monplace  duties.  Mat  had  always  taken  pride  in 
his  unpretentious  calling,  and  his  wife  learned  to 
love  the  blessed  busy  life  of  wife  and  mother. 

Her  sons  and  daughters,  knowing  no  better  be 
cause  of  their  peculiar  environment,  grew  up  believ 
ing  this  old  earth  most  beautiful,  and  the  nobility  of 
their  world  seemed  to  create  in  them  nobility  of 
character.  The  sheltered  peace  of  that  green  valley 
entered  into  their  souls. 

THE  END 


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JUL  29  1920 


yv 


APR  25  van 

APR  28  1921 

11  |823 

MAH  6    27 


AUQ14    1930 


50m-7,'16 


IB  32860 


I  "±  O  i 


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